RICHARD [smiling] Oh, we shall meet again before—eh? [meaning “before you hang me”].
SERGEANT [loudly, with ostentatious cheerfulness] Oh, of course, of course. No call for the lady to distress herself. Still—[in a lower voice, intended for RICHARD alone] your last chance, sir.
They look at one another significantly for a moment. Then RICHARD exhales a deep breath and turns towards JUDITH.
RICHARD [very distinctly] My love. [She looks at him, pitiably pale, and tries to answer, but cannot—tries also to come to him, but cannot trust herself to stand without the support of the table]. This gallant gentleman is good enough to allow us a moment of leavetaking. [The SERGEANT retires delicately and joins his men near the door]. He is trying to spare you the truth; but you had better know it. Are you listening to me? [She signifies assent]. Do you understand that I am going to my death? [She signifies that she understands]. Remember, you must find our friend who was with us just now. Do you understand? [She signifi‘es yes] . See that you get him safely out of harm’s way. Dont for your life let him know of my danger; but if he finds it out, tell him that he cannot save me: they would hang him; and they would not spare me. And tell him that I am steadfast in my religion as he is in his, and that he may depend on me to the death. [He turns to go, and meets the eye of the SERGEANT, who looks a little suspicious. He considers a moment, and then, turning roguishly to JUDITH with something of a smile breaking through his earnestness, says] And now, my dear, I am afraid the sergeant will not believe that you love me like a wife unless you give one kiss before I go.
He approaches her and holds out his arms. She quits the table and almost falls into them.
JUDITH [the words choking her] I ought to—it’s murder—
RICHARD No: only a kiss [softly to her] for his sake.
JUDITH I cant. You must—
RICHARD [folding her in his arms with an impulse of compassion for her distress] My poor girl!
JUDITH, with a sudden effort, throws her arms round him; kisses him; and swoons away, dropping from his arms to the ground as if the kiss had killed her.
RICHARD [going quickly to the sergeant] Now, Sergeant: quick before she comes to. The handcuffs. [He puts out his hands].
SERGEANT [pocketing them] Never mind, sir: I’ll trust you. Youre a game one. You ought to a bin a soldier, sir. Between them two, please. [The soldiers place themselves one before RICHARD and one behind him. The sergeant opens the door].
RICHARD [taking a last look round him] Goodbye, wife: goodbye, home. Muffle the drums, and quick march!
The sergeant signs to the leading soldier to march. They file out quickly. * * * * * * * * * * * * When ANDERSON returns from MRS. DUDGEON’s he is astonished to find the room apparently empty and almost in darkness except for the glow from the fire; for one of the candles has burnt out, and the other is at its last flicker.
ANDERSON Why, what on earth—? [Calling] Judith, Judith! [He listens: there is no answer]. Hm! [He goes to the cupboard; takes a candle from the drawer; lights it at the flicker of the expiring one on the table; and looks wonderingly at the untasted meal by its light. Then he sticks it in the candlestick; takes off his hat; and scratches his head, much puzzled. This action causes him to look at the floor for the first time; and there he sees JUDITH lying motionless with her eyes closed. He runs to her and stoops beside her, lifting her head]. Judith.
JUDITH [waking; for her swoon has passed into the sleep of exhaustion after suffering] Yes. Did you call? Whats the matter?
ANDERSON Ive just come in and found you lying here with the candles burnt out and the tea poured out and cold. What has happened?
JUDITH [still astray] I dont know. Have I been asleep? I suppose—[She stops blankly]. I dont know.
ANDERSON [groaning] Heaven forgive me, I left you alone with that scoundrel. [JUDITH remembers. With an agonized cry, she clutches his shoulders and drags herself to her feet as he rises with her. He clasps her tenderly in his arms]. My poor pet!
JUDITH [frantically clinging to him] What shall I do? Oh my God, what shall I do?
ANDERSON Never mind, never mind, my dearest dear: it was my fault. Come: youre safe now; and youre not hurt, are you? [He takes his arms from her to see whether she can stand]. There: thats right, thats right. If only you are not hurt, nothing else matters.
JUDITH No, no, no: I’m not hurt.
ANDERSON Thank Heaven for that! Come now: [leading her to the railed seat and making her sit down beside him] sit down and rest: you can tell me about it to-morrow. Or [misunderstanding her distress] you shall not tell me at all if it worries you. There, there! [Cheerfully] I’ll make you some fresh tea: that will set you up again. [He goes to the table, and empties the teapot into the slop bowl].
JUDITH [in a strained tone] Tony.
ANDERSON Yes, dear?
JUDITH Do you think we are only in a dream now?
ANDERSON [glancing round at her for a moment with a pang of anxiety, though he goes on steadily and cheerfully puttingfresh tea into the pot] Perhaps so, pet. But you may as well dream a cup of tea when youre about it.
JUDITH Oh stop, stop. You dont know—[Distracted, she buries her face in her knotted hands] .
ANDERSON [breaking down and coming to her] My dear, what is it? I cant bear it any longer: you must tell me. It was all my fault: I was mad to trust him.
JUDITH No: dont say that. You mustnt say that. He—oh no, no: I cant. Tony: dont speak to me. Take my hands—both my hands. [He takes them, wondering]. Make me think of you, not of him. There’s danger, frightful danger; but it is your danger; and I cant keep thinking of it; I cant, I cant: my mind goes back to his danger. He must be saved—no: you must be saved: you, you, you. [She springs up as if to do something or go somewhere, exclaiming] Oh, Heaven help me!
ANDERSON [keeping his seat and holding her hands with resolute composure] Calmly, calmly, my pet. Youre quite distracted.
JUDITH I may well be. I dont know what to do. I dont know what to do. [Tearing her hands away]. I must save him. [ANDERSON rises in alarm as she runs wildly to the door. It is opened in her face by ESSIE, who hurries in full of anxiety. The surprise is so disagreeable to JUDITH that it brings her to her senses. Her tone is sharp and angry as she demands] What do you want?
ESSIE I was to come to you.
ANDERSON Who told you to?
ESSIE [staring at him, as if his presence astonished her] Are you here?
JUDITH Of course. Dont be foolish, child.
ANDERSON Gently, dearest: youll frighten her. [Going between them]. Come here, Essie. [She comes to him]. Who sent you?
ESSIE Dick. He sent me word by a soldier. I was to come here at once and do whatever Mrs. Anderson told me.
ANDERSON [enlightened] A soldier! Ah, I see it all now! They have arrested Richard. [JUDITH makes a gesture of despair].
ESSIE No. I asked the soldier. Dick’s safe. But the soldier said you had been taken.
ANDERSON I! [Bewildered, he turns to JUDITH for an explanation].
JUDITH [coaxingly] All right, dear: I understand. [To ESSIE] Thank you, Essie, for coming; but I dont need you now. You may go home.
ESSIE [suspicious] Are you sure Dick has not been touched? Perhaps he told the soldier to say it was the minister. [Anxiously] Mrs. Anderson : do you think it can have been that?
ANDERSON Tell her the truth if it is so, Judith. She will learn it from the first neighbor she meets in the street. [JUDITH turns away and covers her eyes with her hands].
ESSIE [wailing] But what will they do to him? Oh, what will they do to him? Will they hang him? [ JUDITH shudders convulsively, and throws herself into the chair in which RICHARD sat at the tea table].
ANDERSON [patting ESSIE’s shoulder and trying to comfort her] I hope not. I hope not. Perhaps if youre very quiet and patient, we may be able to help him in some way.
ESSIE Yes—help him—yes, yes, yes. I’ll be good.
ANDERSON I must go to him at once, Judith.
JUD
ITH [springing up] Oh no. You must go away—far away, to some place of safety.
ANDERSON Pooh!
JUDITH [passionately] Do you want to kill me? Do you think I can bear to live for days and days with every knock at the door—every footstep—giving me a spasm of terror? to lie awake for nights and nights in an agony of dread, listening for them to come and arrest you?
ANDERSONDo you think it would be better to know that I had run away from my post at the first sign of danger?
JUDITH [bitterly] Oh, you wont go. I know it. Youll stay; and I shall go mad.
ANDERSON My dear, your duty—
JUDITH [fiercely] What do I care about my duty?
ANDERSON [shocked] Judith!
JUDITH I am doing my duty. I am clinging to my duty. My duty is to get you away, to save you, to leave him to his fate [ESSIE utters a cry of distress and sinks on the chair at the fire, sobbing silently]. My instinct is the same as hers—to save him above all things, though it would be so much better for him to die! so much greater! But I know you will take your own way as he took it. I have no power. [She sits down sullenly on the railed seat]. I’m only a woman: I can do nothing but sit here and suffer. Only, tell him I tried to save you—that I did my best to save you.
ANDERSON My dear, I am afraid he will be thinking more of his own danger than of mine.
JUDITH Stop; or I shall hate you.
ANDERSON [remonstrating] Come, come, come! How am I to leave you if you talk like this! You are quite out of your senses. [He turns to ESSIE] Essie.
ESSIE [eagerly rising and drying her eyes] Yes?
ANDERSON Just wait outside a moment, like a good girl: Mrs. Anderson is not well. [ESSIE looks doubtfulJ. Never fear: I’ll come to you presently; and I’ll go to Dick.
ESSIE You are sure you will go to him? [Whispering]. You wont let her prevent you?
ANDERSON [smiling] No, no: it’s all right. All right. [She goes]. Thats a good girl. [He closes the door, and returns to JUDITH].
JUDITH [seated—rigid] You are going to your death.
ANDERSON [quaintly] Then I shall go in my best coat, dear. [He turns to the press, beginning to take off his coat]. Where—? [He stares at the empty nail for a moment; then looks quickly round to the fire; strides across to it; and lifts RICHARD’s coat]. Why, my dear, it seems that he has gone in my best coat.
JUDITH [still motionless] Yes.
ANDERS0N Did the soldiers make a mistake?
JUDITH Yes: they made a mistake.
ANDERSON He might have told them. Poor fellow, he was too upset, I suppose.
JUDITH Yes: he might have told them. So might I .
ANDERSON Well, it’s all very puzzling—almost funny. It’s curious how these little things strike us even in the most—[He breaks Off and begins putting on RICHARD’s coat]. I’d better take him his own coat. I know what he’ll say—[imitating RICHARD’s sardonic manner] “Anxious about my soul, Pastor, and also about your best coat.” Eh?
JUDITH Yes, that is just what he will say to you. [Vacantly] It doesnt matter: I shall never see either of you again.
ANDERSON [rallying her] Oh pooh, pooh, pooh! [He sits down beside her]. Is this how you keep your promise that I shant be ashamed of my brave wife?
JUDITH No: this is how I break it. I cannot keep my promises to him: why should I keep my promises to you?
ANDERSON Dont speak so strangely, my love. It sounds insincere to me. [She looks unutterable reproach at him]. Yes, dear, nonsense is always insincere; and my dearest is talking nonsense. Just nonsense. [Her face darkens into dumb obstinacy. She stares straight before her, and does not look at him again, absorbed in RICHARD’s fate. He scans her face; sees that his rallying has produced no effect; and gives it up, making no further effort to conceal his anxiety]. I wish I knew what has frightened you so. Was there a struggle? Did he fight?
JUDITH No. He smiled.
ANDERSON Did he realise his danger, do you think?
JUDITH He realised yours.
ANDERSON Mine!
JUDITH [monotonously] He said, “See that you get him safely out of harm’s way.” I promised: I cant keep my promise. He said, “Dont for your life let him know of my danger.” Ive told you of it. He said that if you found it out, you could not save him—that they will hang him and not spare you.
ANDERSON [rising in generous indignation] And you think that I will let a man with that much good in him die like a dog, when a few words might make him die like a Christian. I’m ashamed of you, Judith.
JUDITH He will be steadfast in his religion as you are in yours; and you may depend on him to the death. He said so.
ANDERSON God forgive him! What else did he say?
JUDITH He said goodbye.
ANDERSON [ fidgeting nervously to and fro in great concern] Poor fellow, poor fellow! You said goodbye to him in all kindness and charity, Judith, I hope.
JUDITH I kissed him.
ANDERSON What! Judith!
JUDITH Are you angry?
ANDERSON No, no. You were right: you were right. Poor fellow, poor fellow! [Greatly distressed] To be hanged like that at his age! And then did they take him away?
JUDITH [wearily] Then you were here: thats the next thing I remember. I suppose I fainted. Now bid me goodbye, Tony. Perhaps I shall faint again. I wish I could die.
ANDERSON No, no, my dear: you must pull yourself together and be sensible. I am in no danger—not the least in the world.
JUDITH [solemnly] You are going to your death, Tony—your sure death, if God will let innocent men be murdered. They will not let you see him: they will arrest you the moment you give your name. It was for you the soldiers came.
ANDERSON [thunderstruck] For me!!! [His fists clinch; his neck thickens; his face reddens; the, fleshy purses under his eyes become injected with hot blood; the man of peace vanishes, transfigured into a choleric and formidable man of war. Still, she does not come out of her absorption to look at him: her eyes are steadfast with a mechanical reflection of RICHARD’s steadfastness.]
JUDITH He took your place: he is dying to save you. That is why he went in your coat. That is why I kissed him.
ANDERSON [exploding] Blood an’ owns!bt [His voice is rough and dominant, his gesture full of brute energy]. Here! Essie, Essie!
ESSIE [running in] Yes.
ANDERSON [impetuously) Off with you as hard as you can run, to the inn. Tell them to saddle the fastest and strongest horse they have [JUDITH rises breathless, and stares at him incredulously]—the chestnut mare, if she’s fresh—without a moment’s delay. Go into the stable yard and tell the black man there that I’ll give him a silver dollar if the horse is waiting for me when I come, and that I am close on your heels. Away with you. [His energy sends ESSIE flying from the room. He pounces on his riding boots; rushes with them to the chair at the fire; and begins pulling them on].
JUDITH [unable to believe such a thing of him] You are not going to him!
ANDERSON (busy with the boots] Going to him! What good would that do? [Growling to himself as he gets the first boot on with a wrench] I’ll go to them, so I will. [To JUDITH peremptorily] Get me the pistols: I want them. And money, money: I want money—all the money in the house. [He stoops over the other boot, grumbling] A great satisfaction it would be to him to have my company on the gallows. [He pulls on the boot].
JUDITH You are deserting him, then?
ANDERSON Hold your tongue, woman; and get me the pistols. [She goes to the press and takes from it a leather belt with two pistols, a powder horn, and a bag of bullets attached to it. She throws it on the table. Then she unlocks a drawer in the press and takes out a purse. ANDERSON grabs the belt and buckles it on, saying] If they took him for me in my coat, perhaps theyll take me for him in his. [Hitching the belt into its place] Do I look like him?
JUDITH [turning with the purse in her hand] Horribly unlike him.
ANDERSON [snatching the purse from her and emptying it on the table] Hm! We shall see.
JUDITH [
sitting down helplessly] Is it of any use to pray, do you think, Tony?
ANDERSON [counting the money] Pray! Can we pray Swindon’s rope off Richard’s neck?
JUDITH God may soften Major Swindon’s heart.
ANDERSON [contemptuously—pocketing a handful of money] Let him, then. I am not God; and I must go to work another way. [JUDITH gasps at the blasphemy. He throws the purse on the table]. Keep that. Ive taken 25 dollars.
JUDITH Have you forgotten even that you are a minister?
ANDERSON Minister be—faugh! My hat: wheres my hat? [He snatches up hat and cloak, and puts both on in hot haste]. Now listen, you. If you can get a word with him by pretending youre his wife, tell him to hold his tongue until morning: that will give me all the start I need.
JUDITH [solemnly] You may depend on him to the death.
ANDERSON Youre a fool, a fool, Judith [for a moment checking the torrent of his haste, and speaking with something of his old quiet and impressive conviction] You dont know the man youre married to. [ESSIE returns. He swoops at her at once]. Well: is the horse ready?
ESSIE [breathless] It will be ready when you come.
ANDERSON Good. [He makes for the door].
JUDITH [rising and stretching out her arms after him involuntarily] Wont you say goodbye?
ANDERSON And waste another half minute! Psha! [He rushes out like an avalanche].
ESSIE [hurrying to JUDITH] He has gone to save Richard, hasnt he?
JUDITH To save Richard! No: Richard has saved him. He has gone to save himself. Richard must die.
ESSIE screams with terror and falls on her knees, hiding her face. JUDITH, without heeding her, looks rigidly straight in front of her, at the vision of RICHARD, dying.
ACT III
Early next morning the sergeant, at the British headquarters in the Town Hall, unlocks the door of a little empty panelled waiting room, and invites Judith to enter. She has had a bad night, probably a rather delirious one;for even in the reality of the raw morning, her fixed gaze comes back at moments when her attention is not strongly held.
Man and Superman and Three Other Plays Page 29
