Roses: Four One-Act Plays - novelonlinefull.com
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Julia (_glancing back--aside to_ Pierre).
Keep near the weapons!
Pierre (_as_ Wittich _moves_).
Hush!
Wittich.
You must forgive me--I only wanted to--look after--my--wife. (_Breaks down again._)
Pierre (_aside to_ Julia).
Why, he's quite out of his mind!
Julia.
Keep near the weapons!
Wittich.
I don't care--to settle--this matter--by means of a--so-called--affair of honour. I'm a plain man. I only know about such things from hearsay.
And any way--I don't see that they help--m-matters much. (_Breaks into tearless sobs._)
Pierre (_aside_).
He won't hurt us.
Julia (_stammering_).
I simply--don't--understand it--at all!
Pierre (_pointing to_ Wittich).
Try it! Go to him!
Julia.
He's not a bit like himself.
Pierre.
Go on! Go on!
Julia.
(_Who has timidly approached her husband, bid has drawn back at a movement of his, suddenly throws herself at his feet with great emotion._) George! George!--I am guilty!--I have sinned before G.o.d and you!--I acknowledge my crime!--My life is in your hands!--Crush me--grind me to dust!--But G.o.d knows, I only obeyed a wretched impulse.
My love for you has never left my heart.--My one desire is to die. Kill me!--Here!--Now!--But forgive me! Ah, forgive me!
Wittich (_staring straight ahead_).
Yes, they always talk like that--in books, at least.
Julia.
Forgive me!
Wittich.
There is nothing to forgive. And I am not going to kill any one. What good would it do? (Julia _sobs, hiding her face in her hands._)
Pierre.
Well, then--don't kneel there--like that--Julia, dear!
Julia.
I shall lie here until he raises me. Raise me! Take me in your arms!
Oh, George----
Wittich.
Yes, that's what they always say. (_Sinks into reverie again._)
Pierre (_aside to her_).
Hush! Stand up! (_She does so._) Well--h'm--I suppose I may a.s.sume, Herr Wittich, that you had some purpose in seeking this interview?
Wittich.
Yes--yes. (_Looking about him._) I can well imagine that my wife--er--that the lady must find it very pleasant here.
Pierre.
Oh, yes--we needn't hesitate to say that, need we, Julia, dear?
Julia (_uncertainly adopting his tone_).
No, indeed, Pierre, dear.
Wittich.
At least--she seems to have plenty of roses here.
Julia (_laughing nervously_).
Oh, yes--plenty.
