"O Christ! j'ai pris longtemps pour une noble chaîne L'abrutissant lien que je traîne aujourd'hui; Et j'ai donné mon sang à la cause incertaine De cette égalité dont l'aurore avait lui." LE LABOUREUR "O Christ! j'ai pris longtemps pour une tâche sainte La rude mission confiée à mes bras, Et j'ai, pendant vingt ans, sans repos et sans plainte, Laissé sur les sillons la trace de mes pas." L'OUVRIER "O Christ! j'ai pris longtemps pour œuvre méritoire Mes longs jours consumés dans un labeur sans fin; Et, maintes fois, de peur d'outrager ta mémoire, J'ai plié ma nature aux douleurs de la faim." LE PRÊTRE "La foi n'a pas rempli mon âme inassouvie!" LE SOLDAT "L'orage a balayé tout le sang répandu!" LE LABOUREUR "Où je semais le grain, j'ai récolté l'ortie!" L'OUVRIER "Hier, J'avais un lit mon maître l'a vendu!" "Silence! Has the night wind borne away their prayer on its wings? or have their voices ceased to question the heavens? Are they perchance comforted? Who can tell? God keeps the enigma in His own mighty hands, the terrible enigma held aloft over the borders of two worlds--the present and the future. But they will not be forsaken on their way where doubt assails them, where resignation fells them. Children of God, they shall have their share of life and of sunshine. God loves those who seek after Him.... Then the priest and soldier and artizan and labourer gave place to others, and the apostle went on-- "And after two women, one of whom was dazzlingly and boldly adorned, and the other mute and veiled, there followed a procession in which the grotesque was mingled with the terrible, the fantastic with the real; all moved about the room together, which seemed suddenly to grow larger to make space for this multitude, whilst the retiring spectres, giving place to the newcomers, grouped themselves silently at a little distance from their formidable predecessors. And _he who is_, preparing to address a speech to the fresh arrivals, one of their number, whom I had not at first noticed, came forward to answer in the name of his acolytes. Upon the brow of this interpreter, square built, with shining and greedy lips and on his glistening hungry lips, I read in letters of gold the word _Macairisme!_ "And _he who is_ said-- "'Who are you?' "'The favourites of luxury, the apostles of joy.' "'Whence come you?' "'From wealth.' "'Where do you go?' "'To pleasure.' "'What has made you so well favoured?' "'Infamy.' "'What makes you so happy?' "'Impunity.'"