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Page 51
STRANGER (who has suddenly stopped, grown rigid, and clutched his
heart). Who's down there?
MOTHER. I am.
STRANGER. You're not alone.
MOTHER. No. I've someone with me.
DOMINICAN (making the sign of the cross). Now he'll say nothing;
but fall like a felled tree. (The STRANGER crumples up and falls to
the ground.) Now I shall go. It would be too much for him if he
were to see me, But I'll come back soon. You'll see, he's in good
hands! Farewell and peace be with you. (He goes out.)
STRANGER (raising himself and coming down the steps). Who was that?
MOTHER. A traveller. Sit down; you look so pale.
STRANGER. It was a fainting fit.
MOTHER. You've always new names for it; but they mean nothing
fresh. Sit down here, on the seat.
STRANGER. No; I don't like sitting there. People are always
passing.
MOTHER. Yet I've been sitting here since I was a child, watching
life glide past as the river does below. Here, on the road, I've
watched the children of men go by, playing, haggling, begging,
cursing and dancing. I love this seat and I love the river below,
though it does much damage every year and washes away the property
we inherited. Last spring it carried our whole hay crop off, so
that we had to sell our beasts. The property's lost half its value
in the last few years, and when the lake in the mountains has
reached its new level and the swamp's been drained into the river,
the water will rise till it washes the house away. We've been at
law about it for ten years, and we've lost every appeal; so we
shall be destroyed. It's as inevitable as fate.
STRANGER. Fate's not inevitable.
MOTHER. Beware, if you think to fight it.
STRANGER. I've done so already.
MOTHER. There you go again! You learn nothing from the chastisement
of Providence.
STRANGER. Oh yes. I've learned to hate. Can one love what does evil?
MOTHER. I've little learning, as you know; but I read yesterday
in an encyclopaedia that the Eumenides are not evilly disposed.
STRANGER. That's true; but it's a lie they're friendly. I only
know one friendly fury. My own!
MOTHER. Can you call Ingeborg a fury?
STRANGER. Yes. She is one; and as a fury, she's remarkable. Her
talent for making me suffer excels my most infernal inventions; and
if I escape from her hands with my life, I'll come out of the fire
as pure as gold.
MOTHER. You've got what you deserve. You wanted to mould her as you
wished, and you've succeeded.
STRANGER. Completely. But where is this fury?
MOTHER. She went down the road a few minutes ago.
STRANGER. Down there? Then I'll go to meet my own destruction. (He
goes towards the back.)
MOTHER. So you can still joke about it? Wait! (The MOTHER is left
alone for a moment, until the STRANGER has disappeared. The LADY
then enters from the right. She is wearing a summer frock, and is
carrying a post bag and some opened letters in her hand.)
LADY. Are you alone, Mother?
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