Act 2 — ACT II

123

ACT TWO SCENE ONE

Scene—Library of John Darnton’s home in Connecticut, an hour or so from the city. The room is spacious, furnished in excellent taste. The rear wall is lined with bookshelves. On the wall above the shelves are hung framed photographs of stage-sets. A door is in the rear, toward right. A grand piano at left of door. Near it a round table with a bronze lamp. A smaller table with another lamp is in the left corner. In the right corner a big cushioned chair and an expensive Victrola. In the right wall, French windows opening on a porch. In the left wall, an open fireplace in which logs are burning. Before the fireplace, a double couch facing left and right. The lamp in the left corner is the only one lit. Over the fireplace, a framed, enlarged portrait study of Eleanor, evidently taken some years before.

As the curtain rises, John Darnton is discovered. He is sitting in front of the fireplace, lost in an apathetic dream. His body is bent over wearily, the shoulders bowed, his long arms 124resting on his knees, his hands dangling. He sits on the extreme edge in the exact middle of the big couch, and this heightens the sense of loneliness about him, of a man growing old among dreams which become profitless as he feels the lack of a love that could understand and share them.

Suddenly he starts as the sound of a motor comes from the driveway. The car is heard driving up; it stops before the front door; its door is slammed, it drives off; a ringing of the doorbell sounds from somewhere back in the house. Darnton has gotten up, gone toward the door in the rear, exclaiming irritably as the bell continues to ring—All right, damn it! Who the devil——? [He is heard opening the front door—in blank amazement.] Nelly! [Then her voice in a strained, hysterical pitch.] John! I—— [The rest is lost incoherently. Then his voice soothingly.] Come in by the fire! Come in. [He follows her into the room. Her face is pale, distraught, desperate. She comes quickly to the couch and flings herself down in one corner, staring into the fire. He stands nearby uncertainly, watching her. His face holds a confused mixture of alarm, tenderness, perplexity, passionate hope.]

Darnton—You’re shivering. Come closer to the fire.

125Eleanor—[With a startled movement.] No—I—I’m warm. [A pause. He waits for her to speak, not knowing what to think. She gradually collects herself. Memory crowds back on her and her face twitches with pain which turns to hatred and rage. She becomes conscious of Darnton’s eyes, forces this back, her face growing mask-like and determined. She looks up at Darnton and forces the words out slowly.] John—you said, if ever—— You once said I might always come——

Darnton—[His face lights up for a second with a joy that is incongruously savage—at once controlling this—simply.] Yes, Nelly.

Eleanor—[A bit brokenly now.] I hope—you meant that.

Darnton—[Simply.] Yes, I meant it.

Eleanor—I mean—that you still mean it——?

Darnton—[Forcing an awkward smile.] Then—now—forever after, amen—any old time at all, Nelly. [Then overcome by a rush of bewildered joy—stammering.] Why—you ought to know——!

Eleanor—[Smiling tensely.] Would I still be welcome if I’d come—to stay?

Darnton—[His voice quivering.] Nelly! [He starts toward her, then stops—in a low, uncertain voice.] And Michael?

Eleanor—[With an exclamation of pain.] Don’t! [Quickly recovering herself—in a cold, hard voice.] That’s—dead! [Darnton lets a held-back breath 126of suspense escape him. Eleanor stammers a bit hysterically.] Don’t talk of him! I’ve forgotten—as if he’d never lived! Do you still love me? Do you? Then tell me! I must know someone——

Darnton—[Still uncertain, but coming nearer to her—simply.] You knew once. Since then—— My God, you’ve guessed, haven’t you?

Eleanor—I need to hear. You’ve never spoken—for years——

Darnton—There was—Michael.

Eleanor—[Wildly, putting her hands up to her ears as if to shut out the name.] Don’t!

Darnton—You loved him.

Eleanor—[Intensely.] I hate him! And he hates me! [She shudders—then, driven by a desperate determination, forces a twisted smile.] Why do you stand there? Are you afraid? I’m beginning to suspect—perhaps, you’ve only imagined you loved me——

Darnton—Nelly! [He seizes one of her hands awkwardly and covers it with kisses—confusedly, with deep emotion.] I—— You know—— Don’t joke—— You know I love you!

Eleanor—[With the same fixed smile.] You must put your arms around me—and kiss me—on the lips——

Darnton—[Takes her in his arms awkwardly and kisses her on the lips—with passionate incoherence.] Nelly! I’d given up hoping—I—I can’t believe—— [She 127submits to his kisses with closed eyes, her face like a mask, her body trembling with revulsion. Suddenly he seems to sense something disharmonious—confusedly.] But you—you don’t care for me.

Eleanor—[Still with closed eyes—dully.] Yes. [With a spurt of desperate energy she kisses him wildly several times, then sinks back again closing her eyes.] I’m so tired, John—so tired!

Darnton—[Immediately all concern.] You’re trembling all over. I’m an idiot not to have seen—— Forgive me. [He puts his hand on her forehead.] You’re feverish. You’d better go to bed, young lady, right away. Come. [He raises her to her feet.]

Eleanor—[Wearily.] Yes, I’m tired. [Bitterly.] Oh, it’s good to be loved by someone who is unselfish and kind—after all the hate——

Darnton—Ssshh! [Forcing a joking tone.] I’m cast for the Doctor now. Doctor’s orders: don’t talk, don’t think, sleep. Come, I’ll show you your room.

Eleanor—[Dully.] Yes. [As if she were not aware of what she is doing, she allows him to lead her to the door at right, rear. There she suddenly starts as if awakening—frightenedly.] Where are we going?

Darnton—[With gentle bullying.] You’re going upstairs to bed.

Eleanor—[With a shudder—incoherently.] No, no! Not now—no—wait—you must wait—— [Then 128calming herself and trying to speak matter-of-factly.] I’d rather stay up and sit with you. I must have gotten chilled. I want to sit by the fire.

Darnton—[Worriedly, but giving in to her at once.] All right. Whatever suits you. [They go back to the fire. She sits in a chair which he pushes near it. He puts a cushion in back of her.] How’s that?

Eleanor—[With a wan, grateful smile.] You’re so kind, John. You’ve always been kind. You’re so different—— [She checks herself, her face growing hard, and stares into the fire. Darnton watches her face. There is a long pause.]

Darnton—[Finally—in a gentle tone.] Nelly, don’t you think it’d help if you told me—everything that’s happened?

Eleanor—[With a shudder.] No! It was all horror—and hatred—and disgust! [Wildly resentful.] Why do you make me remember? I’ve come to you. Why do you ask for reasons? [With a harsh laugh.] Are you jealous—of him?

Darnton—[Quietly.] I’ve always envied Michael.

Eleanor—If you’d seen him tonight, you wouldn’t envy him. You’d despise him as I do. He is mean and contemptible! He makes everything as low as he is! He went away threatening, boasting he would——[Hysterically.] Why do you make me think of him? I hate him, I tell you! I want to be yours—yours! [She throws herself into his arms.]

129Darnton—[Straining her to him—with awkward passion.] Nelly! Yes—yes— [Under his kisses her face again becomes mask-like, her body rigid, her eyes closed. Darnton suddenly grows aware of this. He stares down at her face, his own growing bewildered and afraid. He stammers.] Nelly! What is it?

Eleanor—[Opening her eyes—in alarm.] What——?

Darnton—[With a sigh of relief.] You gave me a scare. You were like a corpse.

Eleanor—[Breaks away from him and bends over the fire with her trembling hands spread out to it.] I—I’m so cold. I believe I do feel ill. I’ll go to bed. [She moves toward the door.]

Darnton—[Uneasily—with a forced heartiness.] Now you’re talking sense. Come on. [He leads the way into the hall. She goes as far as the doorway—then stops. A queer struggle is apparent in her face, her whole body, as if she were fighting with all her will to overcome some invisible barrier which bars her way. Darnton is watching her keenly now, a sad foreboding coming into his eyes. He steps past her back into the room, saying kindly but with a faint trace of bitterness.] It’s the first door upstairs on your right—if you’d rather go alone. [He walks still further away, then turns to watch her, his face growing more and more aware and melancholy.]

Eleanor—[Vaguely.] No—you don’t understand—— 130[She stands swaying, reaching out her hand to the side of the doorway for support—dully.] The first door to the right—upstairs?

Darnton—Yes.

Eleanor—[Struggles with herself, confused and impotent, trying to will—finally turns to Darnton like a forlorn child.] John. Can’t you help me?

Darnton—[Gravely.] No—not now when I do understand. You must do it alone.

Eleanor—[With a desperate cry.] I can! I’m as strong as he! I do! [This breaks the spell which has chained her. She grows erect and strong. She walks through the doorway.]

Darnton—[With a triumphant exclamation of joy.] Ah! [He strides toward the doorway—then stops as he notices that she also has stopped at the bottom of the stairs, one foot on the first stair, looking up at the top. Then she wavers and suddenly bolts back into the room, gropingly, her face strained and frightened. Darnton questions her with fierce disappointment.] What is it? Why did you stop?

Eleanor—[Forcing a twisted smile—wildly.] You’re right. I must be feverish. [Trying to control herself—self-mockingly.] Seeing spooks, that’s pretty far gone, isn’t it? [Laughing hysterically.] Yes—I swear I saw him—standing at the head of the stairs waiting for me—just as he was standing when you knocked at our door, remember? [She laughs.] Really, it was too ridiculous—so plain——

131Darnton—Ssshh! [Glancing at her worriedly.] Won’t you lie down here? Try and rest.

Eleanor—[Allowing him to make her comfortable on the couch before the fire.] Yes. [Her eyes glance up into his bewilderedly.]

Darnton—[After a long pause—slowly.] You don’t love me, Nelly.

Eleanor—[Pitifully protesting.] But I do, John! I do! You’re kind! You’re unselfish and fine! I do love you!

Darnton—[With a wry smile.] That isn’t me. You don’t love me.

Eleanor—[Desperately defiant, leaps to her feet.] I do! [She takes his face between her hands and bringing her own close to it, stares into his eyes. He looks back into hers. She mutters fiercely between her clenched teeth.] I do! I do love you! [For a long moment they remain there, as she brings her face nearer and nearer striving with all her will to kiss him on the lips. Finally her eyes falter, her body grows limp, she turns away and throws herself on the couch in a fit of abandoned sobbing.]

Darnton—[With a sad smile.] You see?

Eleanor—[Her voice muffled—between sobs.] But I—want to! And I will—I know—some day—I promise!

Darnton—[Forcing a light tone.] Well, I’ll be resigned to wait and hope then—and trust in your good intentions. [After a pause—in a calming, serious 132tone.] You’re calmer now? Tell me what happened between you and Michael.

Eleanor—No! Please!

Darnton—[Smiling but earnestly.] It’ll relieve your mind, Nelly—and besides, how can I help you otherwise?

Eleanor—[After a pause—with resigned dullness.] We’ve quarreled, but never like this before. This was final! [She shudders—then suddenly bursts out wildly.] Oh, John, for God’s sake don’t ask me! I want to forget! We tore each other to pieces, we destroyed one another! I realized I hated him! I couldn’t restrain my hate! I had to crush him as he was crushing me! [After a pause—dully again.] And so that was the end.

Darnton—[Tensely, hoping again now—pleadingly.] You’re sure, Nelly? You’re sure your love is dead——

Eleanor—[Fiercely.] I hate him!

Darnton—[After a pause—earnestly.] Then stay here. I think I can help you forget. Never mind what people say. Make this your home—and maybe—in time—— [He forces a smile.] You see, I’m already starting to nurse along that crumb of hope you gave. [She is looking down, preoccupied with her own thoughts. He looks at her embarrassedly, then goes on gently, timidly persuasive.] I don’t mind waiting. I’m used to it. And I’ve been hoping ever since I first met you—eight years ago, 133isn’t it? [Forcing a half laugh.] I’ll admit when you married him the waiting and hoping seemed excess labor. I tried to fire them—thought I had—but when you came tonight—there they were right onto the job again! [He laughs—then catching himself awkwardly.] But hell! I don’t want to bother you now. Forget me. Will you stay here and rest up—treat this as your house? That’s the point.

Eleanor—[In a bland, absent-minded tone which wounds him.] You’re so kind, John. [Then following her own line of thought, she breaks out savagely.] I told him I’d been your mistress while he was away!

Darnton—[Amazed.] Nelly!

Eleanor—I had to tell that lie! He was degrading me! I had to revenge myself!

Darnton—But certainly he could never believe——

Eleanor—[With fierce triumph.] Oh, I made him believe! [Then dully.] Then—he went away. He said he would kill our love as I had—worse—— [With a twisted smile.] That’s what he’s doing now. He has gone to one of those women he lived with before—— [Laughing harshly.] No! They wouldn’t be vile enough—for his beautiful revenge on me! He has a wonderful imagination. Everyone acknowledges that! [She laughs with wild bitterness—this is transformed into a frenzy of rage.] Oh, 134how I loathe him! [Then in agony.] My God, why do I think——? Help me, John! Help me to forget—to love you!

Darnton—[After a pause—with a sad, bitter helplessness.] You mean—to hate him! Help you—to revenge yourself! But don’t you realize I can’t—you can’t—because—I see this damn clear now so don’t deny it!—because you still love him!

Eleanor—[Fiercely.] No! [After a pause—brokenly.] Don’t! I know! I hate myself for loving him! I hate him because I love him! [She sobs heart-brokenly.]

Darnton—[After a pause, as her sobbing grows quieter—sadly.] Go home.

Eleanor—No! [After a pause, brokenly.] He hates me.

Darnton—[With a grim smile.] Because he loves you.

Eleanor—He’ll never come back now.

Darnton—[With bitter humor.] Oh, yes he will; take my word for it. I know—because I happen to love you, too.

Eleanor—[Faintly.] And do you—hate me?

Darnton—[After a pause—with melancholy self-disgust.] No. I’m too soft. That’s why you’ve always liked me and never loved me. [Bitterly.] I ought to hate you! Twice now you’ve treated my love with the most humiliating contempt—— Once, years ago, when you were willing to endure it as the 135price of a career—again tonight, when you try to give yourself out of hate and love—love!—for him! [In sudden furious revolt.] Christ! What am I, eh? [Then checking his anger and forcing a wry smile.] I think your treatment has been rather hard to take, Nelly—and even now I’m not cured, at that! [He laughs harshly and turns away to conceal his real hurt.]

Eleanor—[With deep grief.] Forgive me.

Darnton—[As if to himself—reassuringly.] Still—I would have been the poorest slave. I couldn’t have fought you like Michael. Perhaps, deep down, I’m glad——

Eleanor—Don’t say that! If I could have loved you—if I could love you now—I’d be happy.

Darnton—You’d have grown to despise a slave long ago. [Then bluntly.] You’d better go home right away.

Eleanor—[Dully.] Even if he has——

Darnton—[Brusquely.] You know you’ve got to—no matter what!

Eleanor—How can I have faith? And how can I ever make him believe I lied about you? How can he ever trust me about us—here—tonight? [Miserably.] Oh, don’t you see how impossible——!

Darnton—[Impatiently.] But evidently you must. Face the truth in yourself. Must you—or mustn’t you?

Eleanor—[After a moment’s defiant struggle 136with herself—forlornly.] Yes. [After a pause, with a gesture toward the door and a weary, beaten smile.] Upstairs—if I could have gone—I’d have been free. But he’s trained me too well in his ideal. And I love him. From the depths of my humiliation I love him! [Despairingly.] But when I think of what he’s doing, of what he will do to crush——! I hate him! I hate him so terribly that——! [She stops, trembling with passion, her face convulsed—then, shrugging her shoulders, fatalistically.] It’s broken me. I’m no longer anything. So what does it matter how weak I am? Let him win. [A slight pause.] I begin to know—something. [With a sudden queer, exultant pride.] I love him! But my love for him is my own, not his! My love for him he can never possess! It is my own! It is my life! [She turns to Darnton determinedly.] I must go home now.

Darnton—[Wonderingly.] Good. I’ll drive you back. [He starts for the door.]

Eleanor—[Suddenly grasping his arm.] Wait. [Affectionately.] I was forgetting you—as usual. How can you forgive me? What can I do——?

Darnton—[With a wry smile.] Forget, Nelly. Remember me as a manager. Study your part; help Michael; and we’ll all three be enormously successful! [He laughs mockingly.]

Eleanor—[Tenderly.] I’ll always believe Fate should have let me love you, instead.

Darnton—[With the same wry smile.] While 137I begin to suspect that in a way I’m lucky—to be heart-broken. Our might-have-beens are more enjoyable—as dreams, eh? [With a laugh.] Curtain! You’ll want to go upstairs and powder your nose. There’s no angel with a flaming sword there now, is there? [He points to the doorway.]

Eleanor—[With a tired smile.] No. [She goes to the doorway. He follows her. They both stop there for a moment instinctively and smile forlornly at each other.]

Darnton—[Impulsively.] One question: That time you stood here and called to me for help—if I could have given you a push, mental, moral, physical——?

Eleanor—[Smiling.] Might-have-beens, John! [Then earnestly.] You didn’t because you couldn’t. It wouldn’t have helped, anyway. The angel was here. [She touches her breast.]

Darnton—[With a sigh.] Thanks. That saves me a life-long regret.

Eleanor—[Earnestly—gripping his right hand in hers and holding his eyes.] There must be no regrets—ever—between old friends.

Darnton—[Gripping her hand in turn.] No, I promise, Nelly. [Then, letting her hand drop and turning away to conceal his emotion—forcing a joking tone.] After all, friendship is sounder, saner—more in the picture for my type, eh?

Eleanor—[Absent-minded again now—vaguely.] 138I don’t know. [Then briskly.] We must hurry. I’ll be right down. [She goes out and up the stairway in the hall.]

Darnton—[Stares up after her for a second, then smiling grimly.] Well, business of living on as usual. [He passes his arm here and there in the open doorway as if he were a magician—with bitter irony.] You see—nothing there! Invisible cobwebs—cast-iron cobwebs! [He laughs harshly.] Catching title for a play. I’ll tell Michael! [He laughs again—checks himself—then walks out, calling up the stairs.] I’m going to get the car, Nelly.

[The Curtain Falls]

139

ACT TWO SCENE TWO

Scene—A dingy bedroom in a Sixth Avenue “bed house.” In the rear, center, a door leading into the hall. A chair to left of door. In the left corner, a washstand with bowl, pitcher, towels, etc. In the left wall, center, a small window with a torn dark shade pulled down. On the right, a bed. A filthy threadbare carpet on the floor. Ugly wall paper, dirty, stained, criss-crossed with match-strokes.

When the curtain rises, the room is in darkness except for a faint glow on the window shade from some street lamp. Then the door is opened and a woman’s figure is silhouetted against the dim, yellow light of the hall. She turns and speaks to someone who is following her. Her voice is heavy and slow with the strong trace of a foreign intonation, although the words are clearly enough defined.

Woman—Got a match? [A man’s figure appears behind hers. He fumbles in his pockets, hands her a match without speaking. She strikes it on the wall, 140lights the gas jet near the door. The room is revealed in sordid detail in the tarnished yellow light. The Woman is fairly young. Her face, rouged, powdered, penciled, is broad and stupid. Her small eyes have a glazed look. Yet she is not ugly—rather pretty for her bovine, stolid type—and her figure is still attractive although its movements just now are those of a tired scrubwoman’s. She takes off her coat, hangs it on a hook, then goes to a mirror on the wall over the washstand, and removes her hat.

The man is Michael Cape. He is bare-headed, his hair disheveled, his eyes wild, his face has a feverish, mad expression. He stands in the doorway watching each movement of the Woman’s with an unnatural preoccupied concentration.]

Woman—[Having removed her hat and put it on the washstand, turns to him impatiently.] Ain’t you comin’ in? [He starts and nods stupidly, moving his lips as if answering but not making a sound.] Come in! Shut the door. [He does so and locks it mechanically—then looks from her around the room with a frightened, puzzled glance as if he were aware of his surroundings for the first time.]

Woman—[Forcing a trade smile—with an attempt at lightness.] Well, here we are, dearie. [Then with a sigh of physical weariness as she sits on the side of the bed.] Gawd, I’m tired! My feet hurt fierce! I been walkin’ miles. I got corns, too. [She sighs again, this time with a sort of restful content.] It’s good ‘n’ warm in this dump, I’ll 141hand it that. [A pause.] I’d gave up hope and was beatin’ it home when you come along. [A pause during which she takes him in calculatingly.] How’d you lose your hat? [He starts, passes a trembling hand through his hair bewilderedly but does not answer. A pause—then the Woman sighs and yawns wearily—bored.] Can’t you say nothin’? You was full enough of bull when you met me. Gawd, I thought you’d get us both pinched. You acted like you was crazy. Remember kissing me on the corner with a whole mob pipin’ us off?

Cape—[With a start—evidently answering some train of thought in his mind—with a wild laugh.] Remember? [He sinks on the chair with his head in his hands. There is a pause.]

Woman—[Insinuatingly.] Goin’ to stay all night? [He glances up at her stupidly but doesn’t answer. The Woman insists dully.] Say, you got ear-muffs on? I ast you, d’you wanta stay all night?

Cape—[After a moment’s groping, nods emphatically again and again, swallowing hard several times as if he were striving to get control of his voice—finally blurts out in a tone of desperation.] Yes—yes—of course!—Where else would I go?

Woman—Home. [Indifferently.] That’s where most of ’em goes—afterwards.

Cape—[With a sudden burst of wild laughter.] Ha-ha-ha. Home! Is that your private brand of revenge—to go with men with homes? I congratulate 142you! [He laughs to himself with bitter irony—then suddenly deadly calm.] Yes, I have a home, come to think of it—from now on Hell is my home! I suspect we’re fellow-citizens. [He laughs.]

Woman—[Superstitiously.] You oughtn’t to say them things.

Cape—[With dull surprise.] Why?

Woman—Somep’n might happen. [A pause.] Don’t you believe in no God?

Cape—I believe in the devil!

Woman—[Frightened.] Say! [Then after a pause, forcing a smile.] I’m wise to what’s wrong with you. You been lappin’ up some bum hooch.

Cape—[Jerkily.] No. I’m not drunk. I thought of that—but—it’s evasion. [Wildly.] And I must be conscious—fully conscious, do you understand?—of what I do! I will this act as a symbol of release—of the end of all things! [He stops, shuddering. She looks at him stolidly. A pause. He presses his hands to his forehead.] My brain burns up! [Suddenly striking his head with both fists—in a frenzy.] Stop thinking, damn you! Stop! [Then after a pause—dully.] How long——? What time is it?

Woman—Little after two, I guess.

Cape—[Amazed.] Only that? [She nods.] Only two hours since——? [A pause.] I remember streets—lights—dead faces—— Then you—your face alone was alive for me, alive with my deliverance! 143That was why I kissed you. You shall avenge me!

Woman—[Looking at him queerly.] Say, you talk nutty. Been dopin’ up on coke, I bet you.

Cape—[With an abrupt exclamation.] Ha! [He stares at her with unnatural intensity.] You seem to take it quite casually that men must be either drunk or doped—otherwise——! Marvelous! You,—you are the last depth—— [With a strange, wild exultance, leaps to his feet.] You are my salvation! You have the power—and the right—to defile beauty and murder love! You can satisfy hate and exhaust it! Will you let me kiss you again? [He strides over to her.]

Woman—[In a stupid state of bewilderment, feeling she has been insulted but not exactly knowing by what or how to resent it—angrily, pushing him away.] No! Get away from me! [Then afraid she may lose his trade by this rebuff.] Aw, all right. Sure you can. [Making a tremendous visible effort he kisses her on the lips, then shrinks back with a shudder and forces a harsh laugh. She stares at him and mutters resentfully.] O’ny don’t get so fresh, see? I don’t like your line of talk. [He slumps down on the chair again, sunk in a somber stupor. She watches him. She yawns. Finally she asks insinuatingly.] Ain’t you gettin’ sleepy?

Cape—[Starting—with wild scorn.] Sleep! Do you think I——? [Staring at her.] Oh—I see—you mean, what did I come here for?

144Woman—[In same tone.] It’s gettin’ late.

Cape—[Dully, with no meaning to his question—like an automaton.] A little after two?

Woman—Yes. [She yawns.] You better let me go to bed and come yourself.

Cape—[Again staring at her with strange intensity—suddenly with a queer laugh.] How long have you and I been united in the unholy bonds of—bed-lock? [He chuckles sardonically at his own play on words.]

Woman—[With a puzzled grin.] Say!

Cape—Ten thousand years—about—isn’t it? Or twenty? Don’t you remember?

Woman—[Keeping her forced grin.] Tryin’ to kid me, ain’t you?

Cape—Don’t lie about your age! You were beside the cradle of love, and you’ll dance dead drunk on its grave!

Woman—I’m only twenty-six, honest.

Cape—[With a wild laugh.] A fact! You’re right. Thoughts keep alive. Only facts kill—deeds! [He starts to his feet.] Then hate will let me alone. Love will be dead. I will be as ugly as the world. My dreams will be low dreams. I’ll “lay me down among the swine.” Will you promise me this, you?

Woman—[Vaguely offended—impatiently.] Sure, I’ll promise anything. [She gets up to start undressing. She has been pulling the pins out of her hair and, as she rises, it falls over her shoulders in 145a peroxided flood. She turns to him, smiling with childish pride.] D’you like my hair, kid? I got a lot of it, ain’t I?

Cape—[Laughing sardonically.] “O love of mine, let down your hair and I will make my shroud of it.”

Woman—[Coquettishly pleased.] What’s that—po’try? [Then suddenly reminded of something she regards him calculatingly—after a pause, coldly.] Say, you ain’t broke, are you? Is that what’s troubling you?

Cape—[Startled—then with bitter mockery.] Ha! I see you’re a practical person. [He takes a bill from his pocket and holds it out to her—contemptuously.] Here!

Woman—[Stares from the bill to him, flushing beneath her rouge.] Say! I don’t like the way you act. [Proudly.] I don’t take nothin’ for nothin’—not from you, see!

Cape—[Surprised and ashamed.] I’ll leave it here, then. [He puts it on top of the washstand and turns to her—embarrassedly.] I didn’t mean—to offend you.

Woman—[Her face clearing immediately.] Aw, never mind. It’s all right.

Cape—[Staring at her intently—suddenly deeply moved.] Poor woman!

Woman—[Stung—excitedly.] Hey, none of that! Nix! Cut it out! I don’t stand for that from nobody! [She sits down on the bed angrily.]

146Cape—[With unnatural intensity.] Do you know what you are? You’re a symbol. You’re all the tortures man inflicts on woman—and you’re the revenge of woman! You’re love revenging itself upon itself! You’re the suicide of love—of my love—of all love since the world began! [Wildly.] Listen to me! Two hours ago—— [Then he beats his head with both clenched hands—distractedly.] Leave me alone! Leave me alone, damn you! [He flings himself on the chair in a violent outburst of dry sobbing.]

Woman—[Bewilderedly.] Say! Say! [Then touched, she comes to him and puts her arms around his shoulders, on the verge of tears herself.] Aw, come on, kid. Quit it. It’s all right. Everything’s all right, see. [As his sobbing grows quieter—helpfully.] Say, maybe you ain’t ate nothin’, huh? Maybe soup’d fix you. S’posin’ I go round the corner, huh? Sure, all I got to do is put up my hair——

Cape—[Controlling hysterical laughter—huskily.] No—thanks. [Then his bitter memories rush back agonizingly. He stammers wildly.] She confessed—with hate! She was proud of her hate! She was proud of my torture. She screamed: “I hate you! I’ll go too.” Go where? Did she go? Yes, she must——! Oh, my God! Stop! Stop! [He springs up, his face distorted, and clutches the Woman fiercely in his arms.] Save me, you! Help me to kill this beauty which she defiled! Help me to gain the peace which is the death of love. [He 147kisses her again and again frenziedly. She submits stolidly. Finally with a groan he pushes her away, shuddering with loathing, and sinks back on the chair.] No! I can’t—I can’t!

Woman—[Wiping her lips with the back of her hand—a vague comprehension coming into her face—scornfully.] Huh! I got a hunch now what’s eatin’ you. [Then with a queer sort of savage triumph.] Well, I’m glad one of youse guys got paid back like you oughter!

Cape—[With dull impotent rage.] I can’t! I love her! [As if he were defying himself by this confession.] Yes, I still love her! And I can’t! I only hate because I love—I’m the weaker. Our love must live on in me. There is no death for it. There is no freedom—while I live. [Struck by a sudden thought.] Then, why——? [A pause.] An end of loathing—in a second, peace—no wounds, no memories—sleep!

Woman—[With a shudder.] Say, you’re beginning to give me the creeps.

Cape—[Startled—with a forced laugh.] Am I? Well, never mind. [He shakes his head as if to drive some thought from his mind and forces a trembling, mocking smile.] That’s over. The great temptation, isn’t it? I suppose you’ve known it. But also the great evasion. Too simple for the complicated,—too weak for the strong, too strong for the weak. One must go on, eh?—even wounded, on one’s knees—if 148only out of curiosity to see what will happen—to oneself. [He laughs harshly and turns with a quick movement toward the door.] Well, good-by, and forgive me. It isn’t you, you know. You’re the perfect death—but I’m too strong, or weak—no, merely I’m myself—and that myself can’t, you understand—can’t! So, good-by. [He goes to the door.]

Woman—[Frightenedly.] Say! What’re you goin’ to do?

Cape—Go on in the dark.

Woman—You better beat it home, that’s what.

Cape—[Violently.] No! [Then bitterly.] I came home once tonight——

Woman—[Wearily.] Aw, forget it. She’s your wife, ain’t she?

Cape—How do you know? [He comes back to her, curiously attracted.]

Woman—[Cynically.] Aw, I’m wise. Stick to her, see? You’ll get over it. You can get used to anything, take it from me!

Cape—[In anguish.] Don’t! But it’s true—it’s the insult we all swallow as the price of life. [Rebelliously.] But I——!

Woman—[With a sort of forlorn chuckle.] Oh, you’ll go back, aw right! Don’t kid yourself. You’ll go back no matter what, and you’ll learn to like it. Don’t I know? You love her, don’t you? Well, then! There’s no use buckin’ that game. Go home. 149Kiss and make up. Ferget it. It’s easy to ferget—when you got to! [She finishes up with a cynical, weary scorn.]

Cape—[Very pale—stammering.] You—you make life despicable.

Woman—[Angrily.] Say! [Then with groping, growing resentment.] I don’t like your talk! You’ve pulled a lot of bum cracks about—about—never mind, I got you, anyhow! You ain’t got no right—— What’d you wanter pick me up for, anyway? Wanter just get me up here to say rotten things? Wanter use me to pay her back? Say! Where do I come in? Guys go with me ‘cause they like my looks, see?—what I am, understand?—but you, you don’t want nothin’. You ain’t drunk, neither! You just don’t like me. And you was beatin’ it leavin’ your money there—without nothin’. I was goin’ to let you then, I ain’t now. [She suddenly gives him a furious push which sends him reeling back against the wall.] G’wan! Take your lousy coin and beat it! I wouldn’t take nothin’, nor have nothin’ to do with you if you was to get down on your knees!

Cape—[Stares at her—an expression comes as if he were seeing her for the first time—with great pity.] So—it still survives in you. They haven’t killed it—that lonely life of one’s own which suffers in solitude. [Shamefacedly.] I should have known. Can you forgive me?

Woman—[Defensively.] No!

150Cape—Through separate ways love has brought us both to this room. As one suffering, lonely human being to another, won’t you——?

Woman—[Struggling with herself—harshly.] No!

Cape—[Gently.] Not even if I ask it on my knees? [He kneels before her, looking up into her face.]

Woman—[Bewildered, with hysterical fierceness.] No! Git up, you——! Don’t do that, I tell you! Git up or I’ll brain yuh! [She raises her fist threateningly over his head.]

Cape—[Gently.] Not until you——

Woman—[Exhaustedly.] Aw right—aw right—I forgive——

Cape—[Gets up and takes her face between his hands and stares into her eyes—then he kisses her on the forehead.] Sister.

Woman—[With a half sob.] Nix! Lay off of me, can’t you?

Cape—But I learned that from you.

Woman—[Stammering.] What?—loined what? [She goes away from him and sinks on the bed exhaustedly.] Say, you better beat it.

Cape—I’m going. [He points to the bill on the washstand.] You need this money. You’ll accept it from me now, won’t you?

Woman—[Dully.] Sure. Leave it there.

Cape—[In the same gentle tone.] You’ll have to give it to him in the morning?

151Woman—[Dully.] Sure.

Cape—All of it?

Woman—Sure.

Cape—Or he’d beat you?

Woman—Sure. [Then suddenly grinning.] Maybe he’ll beat me up, anyway—just for the fun of it.

Cape—But you love him, don’t you?

Woman—Sure. I’m lonesome.

Cape—Yes. [After a slight pause.] Why did you smile when you said he’d beat you, anyway?

Woman—I was thinkin’ of the whole game. It’s funny, ain’t it?

Cape—[Slowly.] You mean—life and love?

Woman—Sure. You got to laugh, ain’t you? Sure! You got to loin to like it!

Cape—[This makes an intense impression on him. He nods his head several times.] Yes! That’s it! That’s exactly it! That goes deeper than wisdom. To learn to love the truth of life—to accept it and be exalted—that’s the one faith left to us! [Then with a tremulous smile.] Good-by, I’ve joined your church. I’m going home.

Woman—[With a grin that is queerly affectionate.] Sure. That’s the stuff. Close your eyes and your feet’ll take you there.

Cape—[Impressed again.] Yes! Yes! Of course they would! They’ve been walking there for thousands of years—blindly. However, I’ll keep 152my eyes open—— [He smiles back at her affectionately.] ——and learn to like it!

Woman—[Grinning.] Sure. Good luck.

Cape—Good-by. [He goes out, closing the door after him. She stares at the door for a moment, listening to his footsteps as they die out down the stairs. Then she takes a comb from her bag and, going to the mirror, starts to comb her hair. She is preoccupied and her hand suddenly stops.]

Woman—[Confusedly.] Say——? [She stares at herself with a vaguely-troubled, ruminating stolidity. Then with a sigh she goes on combing her hair.]

[The Curtain Falls]

153