Plays Part 48

MADELINE: No-oh, no. It was fine of him to give his life to what he believed should be.

IRA: The light in his eyes as he talked of it, now-eyes gone-and the world he died for all hate and war. Waste. Waste. Nothin' but waste-the life of this house. Why, folks to-day'd laugh to hear my father talk. He gave his best land for ideas to live. Thought was going to make us a better people. What was his word? (waits) Aspiration. (says it as if it is a far-off thing) Well, look at your friend, young Jordan. Kicked from the college to prison for ideas of a better world. (laughs) His 'aspiration' puts him in a hole on bread and water! So-mind your own business, that's all that's so in this country. (constantly tormented anew) Oh, I told your brother all that-the night I tried to keep him. Told him about his mother-to show what come of running to other folks. And he said-standing right there-(pointing) eyes all bright, he said, 'Golly, I think that's great!' And then he-walked out of this house. (fear takes him) Madeline! (she stoops over him, her arm around him) Don't you leave me-all alone in this house-where so many was once. What's Hindus-alongside your own father-and him needing you? It won't be long. After a little I'll be dead-or crazy-or something. But not here alone where so many was once.

MADELINE: Oh-father. I don't know what to do.

IRA: Nothing stays at home. Not even the corn stays at home. If only the wind wouldn't blow! Why can't I have my field to myself? Why can't I keep what's mine? All these years I've worked to make it better. I wanted it to be-the most that it could be. My father used to talk about the Indians-how our land was their land, and how we must be more than them. He had his own ideas of bein' more-well, what's that come to? The Indians lived happier than we-wars, strikes, prisons. But I've made the corn more! This land that was once Indian maize now grows corn-I'd like to have the Indians see my corn! I'd like to see them side by side!-their Indian maize, my corn. And how'd I get it? Ah, by thinkin'-always tryin', changin', carin'. Plant this corn by that corn, and the pollen blows from corn to corn-the golden dust it blows, in the sunshine and of nights-blows from corn to corn like a-(the word hurts) gift. No, you don't understand it, but (proudly) corn don't stay what it is! You can make it anything-according to what you do, 'cording to the corn it's alongside. (changing) But that's it. I want it to stay in my field. It goes away. The prevailin' wind takes it on to the Johnsons-them Swedes that took my Madeline! I hear it! Oh, nights when I can't help myself-and in the sunshine I can see it-pollen-soft golden dust to make new life-goin' on to them,-and them too ignorant to know what's makin' their corn better! I want my field to myself. What'd I work all my life for? Work that's had to take the place o' what I lost-is that to go to Emil Johnson? No! The wind shall stand still! I'll make it. I'll find a way. Let me alone and I-I'll think it out. Let me alone, I say.

(A mind burned to one idea, with greedy haste he shuts himself in the room at left. MADELINE has been standing there as if mist is parting and letting her see. And as the vision grows power grows in her. She is thus flooded with richer life when her AUNT and Professor HOLDEN come back. Feeling something new, for a moment they do not speak.)

AUNT ISABEL: Ready, dear? It's time for us to go now.

MADELINE: (with the quiet of plent.i.tude) I'm going in with Emil Johnson.

AUNT ISABEL: Why-Madeline. (falteringly) We thought you'd go with us.

MADELINE: No. I have to be-the most I can be. I want the wind to have something to carry.

AUNT ISABEL: (after a look at Professor HOLDEN, who is looking intensely at MADELINE) I don't understand.

MADELINE: The world is all a-moving field. (her hands move, voice too is of a moving field) Nothing is to itself. If America thinks so-America is like father. I don't feel alone any more. The wind has come through-wind rich from lives now gone. Grandfather Fejevary, gift from a field far off. Silas Morton. No, not alone any more. And afraid? I'm not even afraid of being absurd!

AUNT ISABEL: But Madeline-you're leaving your father?

MADELINE: (after thinking it out) I'm not leaving-what's greater in him than he knows.

AUNT ISABEL: You're leaving Morton College?

MADELINE: That runt on a high hill? Yes, I'm leaving grandfather's college-then maybe I can one day lie under the same sod with him, and not be ashamed. Though I must tell you (a little laugh) under the sod is my idea of no place to be. I want to be a long time-where the wind blows.

AUNT ISABEL: (who is trying not to cry) I'm afraid it won't blow in prison, dear.

MADELINE: I don't know. Might be the only place it would blow. (EMIL pa.s.ses the window, hesitates at the door) I'll be ready in just a moment, Emil.

(He waits outside.)

AUNT ISABEL: Madeline, I didn't tell you-I hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but your uncle said-if you refused to do it his way, he could do absolutely nothing for you, not even-bail.

MADELINE: Of course not. I wouldn't expect him to.

AUNT ISABEL: He feels so deeply about these things-America-loyalty, he said if you didn't come with us it would be final, Madeline. Even-(breaks) between you and me.

MADELINE: I'm sorry, auntie. You know how I love you. (and her voice tells it) But father has been telling me about the corn. It gives itself away all the time-the best corn a gift to other corn. What you are-that doesn't stay with you. Then-(not with a.s.surance, but feeling her way) be the most you can be, so life will be more because you were. (freed by the truth she has found) Oh-do that! Why do we three go apart? Professor Holden, his beautiful trained mind; Aunt Isabel-her beautiful love, love that could save the world if only you'd-throw it to the winds. (moving nearer HOLDEN, hands out to him) Why do-(seeing it is not to be, she turns away. Low, with sorrow for that great beauty lost) Oh, have we brought mind, have we brought heart, up to this place-only to turn them against mind and heart?

HOLDEN: (unable to bear more) I think we-must go. (going to MADELINE, holding out his hand and speaking from his sterile life to her fullness of life) Good-bye, Madeline. Good luck.

MADELINE: Good-bye, Professor Holden. (hesitates) Luck to you.

(Shaking his head, stooped, he hurries out.)

MADELINE: (after a moment when neither can speak) Good-bye-auntie dearest. Thank you-for the birthday present-the cake-everything. Everything-all the years.

(There is something AUNT ISABEL would say, but she can only hold tight to MADELINE's hands. At last, with a smile that speaks for love, a little nod, she goes. EMIL comes in.)

EMIL: You better go with them, Madeline. It'd make it better for you.

MADELINE: Oh no, it wouldn't. I'll be with you in an instant, Emil. I want to-say good-bye to my father.

(But she waits before that door, a door hard to go through. Alone, EMIL looks around the room. Sees the bag of corn, takes a couple of ears and is looking at them as MADELINE returns. She remains by the door, shaken with sobs, turns, as if pulled back to the pain she has left.)

EMIL: Gee. This is great corn.

MADELINE: (turning now to him) It is, isn't it, Emil?

EMIL: None like it.

MADELINE: And you say-your corn is getting better?

EMIL: Oh, yes-I raise better corn every year now.

MADELINE: (low) That's nice. I'll be right out, Emil.

(He puts the corn back, goes out. From the closet MADELINE takes her hat and wrap. Putting them on, she sees the tennis racket on the table. She goes to it, takes it up, holds it a moment, then takes it to the closet, puts it carefully away, closes the door behind it. A moment she stands there in the room, as if listening to something. Then she leaves that house.)

(CURTAIN)