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Page 11
BEGGAR. So you won't follow my example?
STRANGER. What's that scar on your forehead?
BEGGAR. I got it from a near relation.
STRANGER. Now you frighten me! Are you real? May I touch you? (He
touches his arm.) There's no doubt of it. ... Would you deign to
accept a small coin in return for a promise to seek Polycrates'
ring in another part of the town? (He hands him a coin.) Post
nummos virtus. ... Another echo. You must go at once.
BEGGAR. I will. But you've given me far too much. I'll return
three-quarters of it. Now we owe one another nothing but
friendship.
STRANGER. Friendship! Am I a friend of yours?
BEGGAR. Well, I am of yours. When one's alone in the world one
can't be particular.
STRANGER. Then let me tell you you forget yourself...
BEGGAR. Only too pleased! But when we meet again I'll have a word
of welcome for you. (Exit.)
STRANGER (sitting down again and drawing in the dust with his
stick). Sunday afternoon! A long, dank, sad time, after the usual
Sunday dinner of roast beef, cabbage and watery potatoes. Now the
older people are testing, the younger playing chess and smoking.
The servants have gone to church and the shops are shut. This
frightful afternoon, this day of rest, when there's nothing to
engage the soul, when it's as hard to meet a friend as to get into
a wine shop. (The LADY comes back again, she is noun wearing a
flower at her breast.) Strange! I can't speak without being
contradicted at once!
LADY. So you're still here?
STRANGER. Whether I sit here, or elsewhere, and write in the sand
doesn't seem to me to matter--as long so I write in the sand.
LADY. What are you writing? May I see?
STRANGER. I think you'll find: Eve 1864. ... No, don't step on it.
LADY. What happens then?
STRANGER. A disaster for you ... and for me.
LADY. You know that?
STRANGER. Yes, and more. That the Christmas rose you're wearing is
a mandragora. Its symbolical meaning is malice and calumny; but it
was once used in medicine for the healing of madness. Will you give
it me?
LADY (hesitating). As medicine?
STRANGER. Of course. (Pause.) Have you read my books?
LADY. You know I have. And that it's you I have to thank for giving
me freedom and a belief in human rights and human dignity.
STRANGER. Then you haven't read the recent ones?
LADY. No. And if they're not like the earlier ones I don't want to.
STRANGER. Then promise never to open another book of mine.
LADY. Let me think that over. Very well, I promise.
STRANGER. Good! But see you keep your promise. Remember what
happened to Bluebeard's wife when curiosity tempted her into the
forbidden chamber. ...
LADY. You see, already you make demands like those of a Bluebeard.
What you don't see, or have long since forgotten, is that I'm
married, and that my husband's a doctor, and that he admires your
work. So that his house is open to you, if you wish to be made
welcome there.
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