death. Tentatively, a SUPPLICANT enters.)
THE SUPPLICANT
Holy one? . . . Holy one?THE HEALER
(Not rising, barely moving)I am not holy, only he who made me . . .
THE SUPPLICANT
Ah! are you well?THE HEALER
I live.THE SUPPLICANT
Will you heal me? I hear that you have power; and I have had an oozing sore for twelve years.THE HEALER
I will heal you.THE SUPPLICANT
(Waits a bit, then)Will you rise to do it?
THE HEALER
(Silence, then)Yes, I will rise.
(Creakily, THE HEALER sits up. He is veiled in blankets and darkness. He
holds out his hand and makes a magic sign.)
THE HEALER (Continued)
You are healed.THE SUPPLICANT
Am I? Am I really? Oh, master, is it true? Thank the Lord! Thank the Lord! I’m healed! I’m healed!(THE SUPPLICANT runs off shouting. After he is gone, THE HEALER sighs
like all the world.)
THE HEALER
Ah, I am so tired . . .(He lies back down and folds his arms across his chest, as in death.)
THE END
