Complete Works of James Joyce

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Complete Works of James Joyce Page 227

by Unknown


  (Controlling himself.) You forget that I have allowed you complete liberty — and allow you it still.

  BERTHA

  (Scornfully.) Liberty!

  RICHARD

  Yes, complete. But he must know that I know. (More calmly.) I will speak to him quietly. (Appealing.) Bertha, believe me, dear! It is not jealousy. You have complete liberty to do as you wish — you and he. But not in this way. He will not despise you. You don’t wish to deceive me or to pretend to deceive me — with him, do you?

  BERTHA

  No, I do not. (Looking full at him.) Which of us two is the deceiver?

  RICHARD

  Of us? You and me?

  BERTHA

  (In a calm decided tone.) I know why you have allowed me what you call complete liberty.

  RICHARD

  Why?

  BERTHA

  To have complete liberty with — that girl.

  RICHARD

  (Irritated.) But, good God, you knew about that this long time. I never hid it.

  BERTHA

  You did. I thought it was a kind of friendship between you — till we came back, and then I saw.

  RICHARD

  So it is, Bertha.

  BERTHA

  (Shakes her head.) No, no. It is much more; and that is why you give me complete liberty. All those things you sit up at night to write about (pointing to the study) in there — about her. You call that friendship?

  RICHARD

  Believe me, Bertha dear. Believe me as I believe you.

  BERTHA

  (With an impulsive gesture) My God, I feel it! I know it! What else is between you but love?

  568

  RICHARD

  (Calmly.) You are trying to put that idea into my head but I warn you that I don’t take my ideas from other people.

  BERTHA

  (Hotly.) It is, it is! And that is why you allow him to go on. Of course! It doesn’t affect you. You love her.

  RICHARD

  Love! (Throws out his hands with a sigh and moves away from her.) I cannot argue with you.

  BERTHA

  You can’t because I am right. (Following him a few steps.) What would anyone say?

  RICHARD

  (Turns to her.) Do you think I care?

  BERTHA

  But I care. What would he say if he knew? You, who talk so much of the high kind of feeling you have for me, expressing yourself in that way to another woman. If he did it, or other men, I could understand because they are all false pretenders. But you, Dick! Why do you not tell him then?

  RICHARD

  You can if you like.

  BERTHA

  I will. Certainly I will.

  RICHARD

  (Coolly.) He will explain it to you.

  BERTHA

  He doesn’t say one thing and do another. He is honest in his own way.

  RICHARD

  (Plucks one of the roses and throws it at her feet.) He is, indeed! The soul of honour!

  BERTHA

  You may make fun of him as much as you like. I understand more than you think about that business. And so will he. Writing those long letters to her for years, and she to you. For years. But since I came back I understand it — well.

  RICHARD

  You do not. Nor would he.

  BERTHA

  (Laughs scornfully.) Of course. Neither he nor I can understand it. Only she can. Because it is such a deep thing!

  RICHARD

  (Angrily.) Neither he nor you — nor she either! Not one of you!

  569

  BERTHA

  (With great bitterness.) She will! She will understand it! The diseased woman!

  (She turns away and walks over to the little table on the right. Richard restrains a sudden gesture. A short pause.)

  RICHARD

  (Gravely.) Bertha, take care of uttering words like that!

  BERTHA

  (Turning, excitedly.) I don’t mean any harm! I feel for her more than you can because I am a woman. I do, sincerely. But what I say is true.

  RICHARD

  Is it generous? Think.

  BERTHA

  (Pointing towards the garden.) It is she who is not generous. Remember now what I say.

  RICHARD

  What?

  BERTHA

  (Comes nearer; in a calmer tone.) You have given that woman very much, Dick. And she may be worthy of it. And she may understand it all, too. I know she is that kind.

  RICHARD

  Do you believe that?

  BERTHA

  I do. But I believe you will get very little from her in return — or from any of her clan. Remember my words, Dick. Because she is not generous and they are not generous. Is it all wrong what I am saying? Is it?

  RICHARD

  (Darkly.) No. Not all.

  (She stoops and, picking up the rose from the floor, places it in the vase again. He watches her. Brigid appears at the folding doors on the right.)

  BRIGID

  The tea is on the table, ma’am.

  BERTHA

  Very well.

  BRIGID

  Is Master Archie in the garden?

  BERTHA

  Yes. Call him in.

  (Brigid crosses the room and goes out into the garden. Bertha goes towards the doors on the right. At the lounge she stops and takes up the slip.)

  570

  BRIGID

  (In the garden.) Master Archie! You are to come in to your tea.

  BERTHA

  Am I to go to this place?

  RICHARD

  Do you want to go?

  BERTHA

  I want to find out what he means. Am I to go?

  RICHARD

  Why do you ask me? Decide yourself.

  BERTHA

  Do you tell me to go?

  RICHARD

  No.

  BERTHA

  Do you forbid me to go?

  RICHARD

  No.

  BRIGID

  (From the garden.) Come quickly, Master Archie! Your tea is waiting on you.

  (Brigis crosses the room and goes out through the folding doors. Bertha folds the slip into the waist of her dress and goes slowly towards the right. Near the door she turns and halts.)

  BERTHA

  Tell me not to go and I will not.

  RICHARD

  (Without looking at her.) Decide yourself.

  BERTHA

  Will you blame me then?

  RICHARD

  (Excitedly.) No, no! I will not blame you. You are free. I cannot blame you.

  (Archie appears at the garden door.)

  BERTHA

  I did not deceive you. (She goes out through the folding doors. Richard remains standing at the table. Archie, when his mother has gone, runs down to Richard.)

  ARCHIE

  (Quickly.) Well, did you ask her?

  RICHARD

  (Starting.) What?

  ARCHIE

  Can I go?

  RICHARD

  Yes.

  ARCHIE

  In the morning? She said yes?

  RICHARD

  Yes. In the morning.

  (He puts his arm round his son’s shoulders and looks down at him fondly.)

  Second Act

  (A room in Robert Hand’s cottage at Ranelagh. On the right, forward, a small black piano, on the rest of which is an open piece of music. Farther back a door leading to the street door. In the wall, at the back, folding doors, draped with dark curtains, leading to a bedroom. Near the piano a large table, on which is a tall oil lamp with a wide yellow shade. Chairs, upholstered, near this table. A small cardtable more forward. Against the back wall a bookcase. In the left wall, back, a window looking out into the garden, and, forward, a door and porch, also leading to the garden. Easychairs here and there. Plants in the porch and near the draped folding doors. On the walls are many framed black and white designs. In the right corner, back, a sideboard; and in the centre of the room, left of the table,
a group consisting of a standing Turkish pipe, a low oil stove, which is not lit, and a rocking chair. It is the evening of the same day.)

  (Robert Hand, in evening dress, is seated at the piano. The candles are not lit but the lamp on the table is lit. He plays softly in the bass the first bars of Wolfram’s song in the last act of Tannhäuser. Then he breaks off and, resting an elbow on the ledge of the keyboard, meditates. Then he rises and, pulling out a pump from behind the piano, walks here and there in the room ejecting from it into the air sprays of perfume. He inhales the air slowly and then puts the pump buck behind the piano. He sits down on a chair near the table and, smoothing his hair carefully, sighs once or twice. Then, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets, he leans back, stretches out his legs, and waits. A knock is heard at the street door. He rises quickly.)

  572

  ROBERT

  (Exclaims.) Bertha!

  (He hurries out by the door on the right. There is a noise of confused greeting. After a few moments Robert enters, followed by Richard Rowan, who is in gray tweeds as before but holds in one hand a dark felt hat and in the other an umbrella.)

  ROBERT

  First of all let me put these outside. (He takes the hat and umbrella, leaves them in the hall and returns.)

  ROBERT

  (Pulling round a chair.) Here you are. You are lucky to find me in. Why didn’t you tell me today? You were always a devil for surprises. I suppose my evocation of the past was too much for your wild blood. See how artistic I have become. (He points to the walls.) The piano is an addition since your time. I was just strumming out Wagner when you came. Killing time. You see I am ready for the fray. (Laughs.) I was just wondering how you and the vicechancellor were getting on together. (With exaggerated alarm.) But are you going in that suit? O well, it doesn’t make much odds, I suppose. But how goes the time? (He takes out his watch.) Twenty past eight already, I declare!

  RICHARD

  Have you an appointment?

  ROBERT

  (Laughs nervously.) Suspicious to the last!

  RICHARD

  Then I may sit down?

  ROBERT

  Of course, of course. (They both sit down.) For a few minutes, anyhow. Then we can both go on together. We are not bound for time. Between eight and nine, he said, didn’t he? What time is it, I wonder? (Is about to look again at his watch; then stops.) Twenty past eight, yes.

  573

  RICHARD

  (Wearily, sadly.) Your appointment also was for the same hour. Here.

  ROBERT

  What appointment?

  RICHARD

  With Bertha.

  ROBERT

  (Stares at him.) Are you mad?

  RICHARD

  Are you?

  ROBERT

  (After a long pause.) Who told you?

  RICHARD

  She.

  (A short silence.)

  ROBERT

  (In a low voice.) Yes. I must have been mad. (Rapidly.) Listen to me, Richard. It is a great relief to me that you have come — the greatest relief. I assure you that ever since this afternoon I have thought and thought how I could break it off without seeming a fool. A great relief! I even intended to send word... a letter, a few lines. (Suddenly.) But then it was too late... (Passes his hand over his forehead.) Let me speak frankly with you; let me tell you everything.

  RICHARD

  I know everything. I have known for some time.

  ROBERT

  Since when?

  RICHARD

  Since it began between you and her.

  ROBERT

  (Again rapidly.) Yes, I was mad. But it was merely lightheadedness. I admit that to have asked her here this evening was a mistake. I can explain everything to you. And I will. Truly.

  RICHARD

  Explain to me what is the word you longed and never dared to say to her. If you can or will.

  ROBERT

  (Looks down, then raises his head.) Yes. I will. I admire very much the personality of your... of... your wife. That is the word. I can say it. It is no secret.

  RICHARD

  Then why did you wish to keep secret your wooing?

  ROBERT

  Wooing?

  574

  RICHARD

  Your advances to her, little by little, day after day, looks, whispers. (With a nervous movement of the hands.) Insomma, wooing.

  ROBERT

  (Bewildered.) But how do you know all this?

  RICHARD

  She told me.

  ROBERT

  This afternoon?

  RICHARD

  No. Time after time, as it happened.

  ROBERT

  You knew? From her? (Richard nods.). You were watching us all the time?

  RICHARD

  (Very coldly.) I was watching you.

  ROBERT

  (Quickly.) I mean, watching me. And you never spoke! You had only to speak a word — to save me from myself. You were trying me. (Passes his hand again over his forehead.) It was a terrible trial: now also. (Desperately.) Well, it is past. It will be a lesson to me for all my life. You hate me now for what I have done and for...

  RICHARD

  (Quietly, looking at him.) Have I said that I hate you?

  ROBERT

  Do you not? You must.

  RICHARD

  Even if Bertha had not told me I should have known. Did you not see that when I came in this afternoon I went into my study suddenly for a moment?

  ROBERT

  You did. I remember.

  RICHARD

  To give you time to recover yourself. It made me sad to see your eyes. And the roses too. I cannot say why. A great mass of overblown roses.

  ROBERT

  I thought I had to give them. Was that strange? (Looks at Richard with a tortured expression.) Too many, perhaps? Or too old or common?

  RICHARD

  That was why I did not hate you. The whole thing made me sad all at once.

  ROBERT

  (To himself.) And this is real. It is happening — to us.

  575

  (He stares before him for some moments in silence, as if dazed; then, without turning his head, continues.)

  ROBERT

  And she, too, was trying me; making an experiment with me for your sake!

  RICHARD

  You know women better than I do. She says she felt pity for you.

  ROBERT

  (Brooding.) Pitied me, because I am no longer... an ideal lover. Like my roses. Common, old.

  RICHARD

  Like all men you have a foolish wandering heart.

  ROBERT

  (Slowly.) Well, you spoke at last. You chose the right moment.

  RICHARD

  (Leans forward.) Robert, not like this. For us two, no. Years, a whole life, of friendship. Think a moment. Since childhood, boyhood... No, no. Not in such a way — like thieves — at night. (Glancing about him.) And in such a place. No, Robert, that is not for people like us.

  ROBERT

  What a lesson! Richard, I cannot tell you what a relief it is to me that you have spoken — that the danger is passed. Yes, yes. (Somewhat diffidently.) Because... there was some danger for you, too, if you think. Was there not?

  RICHARD

  What danger?

  ROBERT

  (In the same tone.) I don’t know. I mean if you had not spoken. If you had watched and waited on until...

  RICHARD

  Until?

  ROBERT

  (Bravely.) Until I had come to like her more and more (because I can assure you it is only a lightheaded idea of mine), to like her deeply, to love her. Would you have spoken to me then as you have just now? (Richard is silent. Robert goes on more boldly.) It would have been different, would it not? For then it might have been too late while it is not too late now. What could I have said then? I could have said only: You are my friend, my dear good friend. I am very sorry but I love her. (With a sudden fervent gesture.) I love her and I w
ill take her from you, however I can, because I love her.

  576

  (They look at each other for some moments in silence.)

  RICHARD

  (Calmly.) That is the language I have heard often and never believed in. Do you mean by stealth or by violence? Steal you could not in my house because the doors were open: nor take by violence if there were no resistance.

  ROBERT

  You forget that the kingdom of heaven suffers violence: and the kingdom of heaven is like a woman.

  RICHARD

  (Smiling.) Go on.

  ROBERT

  (Diffidently, but bravely.) Do you think you have rights over her — over her heart?

  RICHARD

  None.

  ROBERT

  For what you have done for her? So much! You claim nothing?

  RICHARD

  Nothing.

  ROBERT

  (After a pause strikes his forehead with his hand.) What am I saying? Or what am I thinking? I wish you would upbraid me, curse me, hate me as I deserve. You love this woman. I remember all you told me long ago. She is yours, your work. (Suddenly.) And that is why I, too, was drawn to her. You are so strong that you attract me even through her.

  RICHARD

  I am weak.

  ROBERT

  (With enthusiasm.) You, Richard! You are the incarnation of strength.

  RICHARD

  (Holds out his hands.) Feel those hands.

  ROBERT

  (Taking his hands.) Yes. Mine are stronger. But I meant strength of another kind.

  577

  RICHARD

  (Gloomily.) I think you would try to take her by violence. (He withdraws his hands slowly.)

  ROBERT

  (Rapidly.) Those are moments of sheer madness when we feel an intense passion for a woman. We see nothing. We think of nothing. Only to possess her. Call it brutal, bestial, what you will.

  RICHARD

  (A little timidly.) I am afraid that that longing to possess a woman is not love.

  ROBERT

  (Impatiently.) No man ever yet lived on thus earth who did not long to possess — I mean to possess in the flesh — the woman whom he loves. It is nature’s law.

  RICHARD

  (Contemptuously.) What is that to me? Did I vote it?

  ROBERT

  But if you love... What else is it?

  RICHARD

  (Hesitatingly.) To wish her well.

  ROBERT

  (Warmly.) But the passion which burns us night and day to possess her. You feel it as I do. And it is not what you said now.

  RICHARD

  Have you...? (He stops for an instance.) Have you the luminous certitude that yours is the brain in contact with which she must think and understand and that yours is the body in contact with which her body must feel? Have you this certitude in yourself?

 

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