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Page 17
STRANGER. Oh no. I'm no more at home there than here. Excuse me
asking, but haven't we met before--when we were boys?
DOCTOR. Never.
(The LADY has sat down at the table and is crocheting.)
STRANGER. Are you sure?
DOCTOR. Perfectly. I've followed your literary career from the
first with great interest; as I know my wife has told you. So
that if we _had_ met I'd certainly have remembered your name.
(Pause.) Well, now you can see how a country doctor lives!
STRANGER. If you could guess what the life of a so-called
liberator's like, you wouldn't envy him.
DOCTOR. I can imagine it; for I've seen how men love their chains.
Perhaps that's as it should be.
STRANGER (listening). Strange. Who's playing in the village?
DOCTOR. I don't know. Do you, Ingeborg?
LADY. No.
STRANGER. Mendelssohn's Funeral March! It pursues me. I never know
whether I've heard it or not.
DOCTOR. Do you suffer from hallucinations?
STRANGER. No. But I'm pursued by trivial incidents. Can't you hear
anyone playing?
DOCTOR. Yes.
LADY. Someone _is_ playing. Mendelssohn.
DOCTOR. Not surprising.
STRANGER. No. But that it should be played precisely at the right
place, at the right time . ... (He gets up.)
DOCTOR. To reassure you, I'll ask my sister. (Exit through the
verandah.)
STRANGER (to the LADY). I'm stifling here. I can't pass a night
under this roof. Your husband looks like a werewolf and in his
presence you turn into a pillar of salt. Murder has been done in
this house; the place is haunted. I shall escape as soon as I can
find an excuse.
(The DOCTOR comes back.)
DOCTOR. It's the girl at the post office.
STRANGER (nervously). Good. That's all right. You've an original
house. That pile of wood, for instance.
DOCTOR. Yes. It's been struck by lightning twice.
STRANGER. Terrible! And you still keep it?
DOCTOR. That's why. I've made it higher out of defiance; and to
give shade in summer. It's like the prophet's gourd. But in the
autumn it must go into the wood shed.
STRANGER (looking round). Christmas roses, too! Where did you get
them? They're flowering in summer! Everything's upside down here.
DOCTOR. They were given me by a patient. He's not quite sane.
STRANGER. Is he staying in the house?
DOCTOR. Yes. He's a quiet soul, who ponders on the purposelessness
of nature. He thinks it foolish for hellebore to grow in the snow
and freeze; so he puts the plants in the cellar and beds them out
in the spring.
STRANGER. But a madman ... in the house. Most unpleasant!
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