The Road to Damascus by August Strindberg


Main
- books.jibble.org



My Books
- IRC Hacks

Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare

External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd

books.jibble.org

Previous Page | Next Page

Page 67

STRANGER. What's this mean?

BEGGAR. It's the last part of the reception; and it's supposed to
mean that gold's mere rubbish.

STRANGER. If only that were true, rubbish could be exchanged for
gold.

BEGGAR. Well, it's only the philosophy of the Society of Drunkards.
And you've got to take your philosophy where you find it.

SECOND WOMAN (sitting down next to the STRANGER). Do you recognise
me?

STRANGER. No.

SECOND WOMAN. Oh, you needn't be embarrassed so late in the evening
as this!

STRANGER. You believe you're one of my victims? That I was amongst
the first hundred who seduced you?

SECOND WOMAN. No. It's not what you think. But I once came across a
printed paper, when I was about to be confirmed, which said that it
was a duty to oneself to give way to all desires of the flesh.
Well, I grew free and blossomed; and this is the fruit of my highly
developed self!

STRANGER (rising). Perhaps I may go now?

WAITRESS (coming over with a bill). Yes. But the bill must be paid
first.

STRANGER. What? By me? I haven't ordered anything.

WAITRESS. I know nothing of that; but you're the last of the
company to have had anything.

STRANGER (to the BEGGAR). Is this all a part of the reception?

BEGGAR. Yes, certainly. And, as you know, everything costs money,
even honour. ...

STRANGER (taking a visiting card and handing it to the waitress).
There's my card. You'll be paid to-morrow.

WAITRESS (putting the card in the dust-bin). Hm! I don't know the
name; and I've put a lot of such cards into the dust-bin. I want
the money.

BEGGAR. Listen, madam, I'll guarantee this man will pay.

WAITRESS. So you'd like to play tricks on me too! Officer! One
moment, please.

POLICEMAN. What's all this about? Payment, I suppose. Come to the
station; we'll arrange things there. (He writes something in his
note-book.)

STRANGER. I'd rather do that than stay here and quarrel. ... (To
the BEGGAR.) I don't mind a joke, but I never expected such cruel
reality as this.

BEGGAR. Anything's to be expected, once you challenge persons as
powerful as you have! Let me tell you this in confidence. You'd
better be prepared for worse, for the very worst!

STRANGER. To think I've been so duped ... so ...

BEGGAR. Feasts of Belshazzar always end in one way a hand's
stretched out--and writes a bill. And another hand's laid on the
guest's shoulder and leads him to the police station! But it must
be done royally!

POLICEMAN (laying his hand on the STRANGER). Have you talked
enough?

THE WOMEN and RAGGED ONES. The alchemist can't pay. Hurrah! He's
going to gaol. He's going to gaol!

Previous Page | Next Page


Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 19th Jan 2026, 9:08