Act 4 — Scene III.

—The anteroom of a public hall at Pueblo in the Western States, during President Wilson’s tour on behalf of the Treaty of Versailles. September 25th, 1919. When the door is open, the speaker’s voice in the main hall is distinctly audible.

Admiral Grayson is waiting anxiously. Mrs. Wilson hurries in.

Mrs. Wilson: The President—it’s critical. He must be persuaded against continuing this tour.

Grayson: I have been saying that, ma’am, for a long time.

Mrs. Wilson: But it grows more urgent. I left the platform to find you. How he’ll finish I don’t know. He was swaying and the utterance seemed more difficult each minute. Nothing but his iron determination sustains him.

Grayson: Nothing but the depth of his convictions and his devotion to the task he has begun, have brought him so far.

Mrs. Wilson: You must prevail on him, Admiral. If he breaks, the League breaks. Use that with him.

Grayson: Prevail. Have you ever tried, ma’am, to prevail upon a monolith? (Tumulty enters, jubilant). How does it go?

Tumulty: He’s carrying them. The old wonderful Wilson touch. Listen.

He throws open the door. The President’s rich, musical voice, full of power, is borne in upon them.

Mrs. Wilson: Why, he sounds to be quite recovered.

Grayson (reverently): Hush, ma’am. It is the voice of a prophet.

Wilson (off): Now that the mists of this great question have cleared away, I believe that men will see the truth, eye to eye and face to face. There is one thing that the American people always rise to and extend their hand to, and that is the truth of justice and of liberty and of peace. We have accepted that truth, and we are going to be led by it; and it is going to lead us, and through us the world, out into pastures of quietness and peace, such as the world never dreamed of before.

Prolonged applause. The President enters, followed by local magnates and his staff.

Tumulty: Oh, Governor, this is the best you’ve ever done.

Wilson: Tumulty, it does me good to hear you speak so. I guess—why, surely this building is strangely unsteady—or—Everything’s going. Why, Grayson, it’s—it’s dark.

Grayson: Bear up, Sir. A touch of vertigo. You’re tired.

Wilson (horror in his eyes): No. My speech. Failing. I can’t—articulate.

He sinks into Grayson’s arms, and is lowered into a chair. Mrs. Wilson falls on her knees beside him.

Tumulty: In God’s name, Admiral——?

Grayson: Paralysis. The tour is over.

They prepare to carry the President away.

The Scene closes.