a basket of food was sent in during the early afternoon. they gathered about, making a place for the woman under the light. abel was brighter, his eyes full of tenderness. poltneck had not long been able to hold out in his misery against the philosophy of fallows, who said as they broke the bread:
“we have spoken our testimony, and the big adventure is ahead. it's against the law to look back. we are honored men. i am proud to be here, proud of a service that requires no herald. in all my dreaming in the little cabin in the bosks i could think of no rarer thing than this—five together, a singer, a poet, a peasant, and two lovers. it's like a pastoral—but the dark suffering army is about us. ... listen to the fighting. ... but there will be an end to fighting? ... our poltneck may already have sung the song to turn the armies back. be very sure, he would have thought of his coup in time to-day, had the hour struck for that. sing to us now, my son. your soul will come home to you. sing to us—the lord is mindful of his own—”
it was started as one would answer a question—food in his hand, and his eyes turned upward—a song of the germans, too, the music of mendelssohn.
... it became very clear to the five that the plan was good, that nothing mattered but the inner life, and that the soul breathes deeply and comes into its own immortal health, by man's thought and service to his brother. they saw it again—that goodly rock of things. the light was shining above. their eyes filled with tears, and their hands touched each others' like children in a strange hush and shadow. ...
they heard a ragged volley of platoon fire from the distant court, but it did not hold their thoughts from the song nor change a note. the huge sandy head was turned upward, and the hand with its bit of broken bread moved to and fro. ...
