The Road to Damascus, a Trilogy Part 31

LADY. Woe! Woe!

STRANGER. Beloved. What is it?

LADY. Beloved! Say that word again.

STRANGER. Are you ill?

LADY. No, but I'm in pain, and yet glad at the same time. Go and ask my mother to make up my bed. But first give me your blessing.

STRANGER. Shall I...?

LADY. Say you forgive me; I may die, if the child takes my life. Say that you love me.

STRANGER. Strange: I can't get the word to cross my lips.

LADY. Then you don't love me?

STRANGER. When you say so, it seems so to me. It's terrible, but I fear I hate you.

LADY. Then at least give me your hand; as you'd give it to someone in distress.

STRANGER. I'd like to, but I can't. Someone in me takes pleasure in your agony; but it's not I. I'd like to carry you in my arms and bear your suffering for you. But I may not. I cannot!

LADY. You're as hard as stone.

STRANGER (with restrained emotion). Perhaps not. Perhaps not.

LADY. Come to me!

STRANGER. I can't stir from here. It's as if someone had taken possession of my soul; and I'd like to kill myself so as to take the life of the other.

LADY. Think of your child with joy....

STRANGER. I can't even do that, for it'll bind me to earth.

LADY. If we've sinned, we've been punished! Haven't we suffered enough?

STRANGER. Not yet. But one day we shall have.

LADY (sinking down). Help me. Mercy! I shall faint!

(The STRANGER extends his hand, as if he had recovered from a cramp. The LADY kisses it. The STRANGER lifts her up and leads her to the door of the house.)

Curtain.

SCENE II

THE 'ROSE' ROOM

[A room with rose-coloured walls; it has small windows with iron lattices and plants in pots. The curtains are rose red; the furniture is white and red. In the background a door leading to a white bed-chamber; when this door is opened, a large bed can be seen with a canopy and white hangings. On the right the door leading out of the house. On the left a fireplace with a coal fire. In front of it a bath tub, covered with a white towel. A cradle covered with white, rose-coloured and light-blue stuff. Baby clothes are spread out here and there. A green dress hangs on the right-hand wall. Four Sisters of Mercy are on their knees, facing the door at the back, dressed in the black and white of Augustinian nuns. The midwife, who is in black, is by the fireplace.

The child's nurse wears a peasant's dress, of black and white, from Brittany. The MOTHER is standing listening by the door at the back. The STRANGER is sitting on a chair right and is trying to read a book. A hat and a brown cloak with a cape and hood hang nearby, and on the floor there is a small travelling bag. The Sisters of Mercy are singing a psalm. The others join in from time to time, but not the STRANGER.]

SISTERS. Salve, Regina, mater misericordiae;

Vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.

Ad to clamamus, exules filii Evae; Ad to suspiramus gementes et flentes In hac lacrymarum valle.

(The STRANGER rises and goes to the MOTHER.)

MOTHER. Stay where you are! A human being's coming into the world; another's dying. It's all the same to you.

STRANGER. I'm not so sure! If I want to go in, I'm not allowed to. And when I don't want to, you wish it. I'd like to now.

MOTHER. She doesn't want to see you. Besides, presence here's no longer needed. The child matters most now.

STRANGER. For you, yes; but I'm still of most importance to myself.

MOTHER. The doctor's forbidden anyone to go in, whoever they may be, because she's in danger.

STRANGER. What doctor?

MOTHER. So your thoughts are there again!

STRANGER. Yes. And it's you who led them! An hour ago you gave me to understand that the child couldn't be mine. With that you branded your daughter a wh.o.r.e; but that means nothing to you, if you can only strike me to the heart! You are almost the most contemptible creature I know!

MOTHER (to the SISTERS). Sisters! Pray for this unhappy man.

STRANGER. Make way for me to go in. For the last time--out of the way.

MOTHER. Leave this room, and this house too.

STRANGER. If I were to do as you ask, in ten minutes you'd send the police after me, for abandoning my wife and child!

MOTHER. I'd only do that to have you taken to a convent you know of.

MAID (entering at the back). The Lady's asking you to do something for her.

STRANGER. What is it?

MAID. There's supposed to be a letter in the dress she left hanging here.

STRANGER (looks round and notices the green dress; he goes over to it and takes a letter from the pocket). This is addressed to me, and was opened two days ago. Broken open! That's good!

MOTHER. You must forgive someone who's as ill as your wife.

STRANGER. She wasn't ill two days ago.

MOTHER. No. But she is now.