The Road to Damascus by August Strindberg


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Page 29

MOTHER (smiling). Probably nothing to eat?

STRANGER (hesitating). No. ...

MOTHER. You're a fine fellow!

STRANGER. In all my life I've never been in such a predicament.

MOTHER. I can believe it. It's almost a pity. I could laugh at the
figure you cut, if I didn't know it would make you weep, and others
with you. (Pause.) But now you've had your will, hold fast to the
woman who loves you; for if you leave her, you'll never smile
again, and soon forget what happiness was.

STRANGER. Is that a threat?

MOTHER. A warning. Go now, and have your supper.

STRANGER (pointing at the table for the poor). There?

MOTHER. A poor joke; which might become reality. I've seen such
things.

STRANGER. Soon I'll believe anything can happen--this is the worst
I've known.

MOTHER. Worse yet may come. Wait!

STRANGER (cast down). I'm prepared for anything.

(Exit. A moment later the OLD MAN comes in.)

OLD MAN. It was no angel after all.

MOTHER. No good angel, certainly.

OLD MAN. Really! (Pause.) You know how superstitious people here
are. As I went down to the river I heard this: a farmer said his
horse shied at 'him'; another that the dogs got so fierce he'd had
to tie them up. The ferryman swore his boat drew less water when
'he' got in. Superstition, but. ...

MOTHER. But what?

OLD MAN. It was only a magpie that flew in at her window, though it
was closed. An illusion, perhaps.

MOTHER. Perhaps. But why does one often see such things at the
right time?

OLD MAN. This man's presence is intolerable. When he looks at me I
can't breathe.

MOTHER. We must try to get rid of him. I'm certain he won't care to
stay for long.

OLD MAN. No. He won't grow old here. (Pause.) Listen, I got a
letter to-night warning me about him. Among other things he's
wanted by the courts.

MOTHER. The courts?

OLD MAN. Yes. Money matters. But, remember, the laws of hospitality
protect beggars and enemies. Let him stay a few days, till he's got
over this fearful journey. You can see how Providence has laid
hands on him, how his soul is being ground in the mill ready for
the sieve. ...

MOTHER. I've felt a call to be a tool in the hands of Providence.

OLD MAN. Don't confuse it with your wish for vengeance.

MOTHER. I'll try not to, if I can.

OLD MAN. Well, good-night.

MOTHER. Do you think Ingeborg has read his last book?

OLD MAN. It's unlikely. If she had she'd never have married a man
who held such views.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 15th Jan 2026, 23:52