by Неизвестный
MAN: Because I saw it. . . . I . . .
WIFE: I saw it, too. But we need to remember the circumstances. Our daughter behaved a bit strangely. She often ran out in the middle of the night. The first time, she was just three years old. A fire alarm sounded in the middle of the night, and, when I looked, she wasn’t there. We ran out after her, frantic. The bridge over the river outside the village was down. That child, drenched to the skin, was being held in the arms of a volunteer fireman. A bonfire was burning. I didn’t know what to do. . . .
MAN: It happened a number of times. She died after we moved to town, so she was perhaps seven.
WIFE: She was seven.
MAN: I didn’t know what happened. My wife shook me awake. It was in the middle of the night and it was raining. That child, still in her nightgown, went running out in the street where the streetcar line was, running in the deserted street. I ran after her. I called to her again and again. Then, just as we turned the corner, there came the streetcar.
WIFE: That’s right. It was raining that night . . . I remember.
WOMAN: Don’t you remember me?
WIFE (staring at her intently, then in a low voice): It’s her.
MAN: You’re wrong.
WIFE: But that kind of thing might be possible. . . .
WOMAN: It’s me.
WIFE: Please, stand up for a minute.
The woman stands, rather awkwardly. She walks a little.
MAN: Just who in the world are you?
WOMAN: The daughter of the two of you.
WIFE (to the man): She looks like her.
WOMAN: There’s no mistake. The man in charge of family records examined many thick record books. That’s how I found out. He said that my father and mother lived here.
WIFE: What do you think?
MAN: I don’t believe it.
WIFE: But let’s talk about it a little. Then we can see.
MAN: What?
WIFE: Oh, all sorts of things. But even if, let’s say, she isn’t actually our child, wouldn’t that still be all right? She’s had such a hard time.
MAN: I understand that . . . but . . .
WOMAN: I . . . I don’t blame you, Father . . . for that. . . .
MAN: Blame? . . . Me? . . .
WOMAN: I can forget even that, now.
MAN: You’re wrong. It’s all a mistake.
WIFE: That’s all right. Let’s just sit down. We’ll sit and talk.
MAN: Yes, let’s sit down. Standing won’t get us anywhere. And since you went to the trouble to fix hot tea . . .
WIFE: Right. Let’s have our tea. After that, we’ll have a long overdue parent–child conversation.
The three of them sit down and begin to drink their tea, in a somewhat pleasant mood.
MAN: Well, I don’t deny that there’s a resemblance. And, if she had lived, she’d have been just about your age. . . .
WIFE: She did live. I can’t help feeling so.
MAN: Now, dear, don’t say such things so lightly, even joking, because she is quite serious. . . .
WOMAN: What’s best is to see that Father and Mother are well.
WIFE: My, how often have I thought I would like to hear that!
MAN: But dear, I keep telling you, it’s all a mistake.
WOMAN: Ah . . . I . . . it is difficult for me to say this, but . . . ah . . . my younger brother is still waiting outside.
WIFE: Younger brother?
WOMAN: Yes.
MAN: You have a brother?
WOMAN: Yes. We agreed that if I found out that you really were our father and mother, I’d call him.
WIFE: But we had only the one daughter.
MAN: She was an only child. Of course, I always wanted a son, very much, but . . . we never had one.
WIFE: Your real brother? . . .
WOMAN: Yes, he is. So . . . your real son.
WIFE: That would seem to follow, but . . . but we really didn’t have a son. . . .
WOMAN: It’s cold outside, and if it’s all right, I wonder if you could call him in? . . . (Standing and moving off stage left.)
MAN: But . . . just a minute . . .
The woman reappears, bringing in her brother. She guides him to the small serving table.
WOMAN: See, this is your mother.
BROTHER: Good evening, Mother.
WOMAN: And this is your father.
BROTHER: Good evening, Father.
WIFE: Please sit down. (Seats him beside the small table.)
BROTHER: Yes. (Sits.)
WOMAN: You were probably cold, weren’t you?
BROTHER: No, not at all. . . .
WOMAN: My brother has remarkable self-control. He has sometimes stood in the snow all night long. And he’d never even sneeze. Have some tea.
BROTHER: Yes. (Taking a large cup, saucer, and spoon from a bag he is holding. The wife, holding the teapot, pours tea into his cup. While handing him the sugar, she observes him closely.)
WOMAN: He likes tea very much. Two spoons of sugar. Always. Then he drinks slowly. I taught him that. They say it’s best for the body, and for the heart, to drink slowly. (The brother drinks the tea.)
WOMAN: Aren’t you hungry?
BROTHER: No.
WOMAN: But take something. Since you haven’t had anything since yesterday.
WIFE: My, since yesterday?
WOMAN: Yes, my brother’s self-control is very strong. He has sometimes gone for over three days without eating. But he never says a word about it.
WIFE: Three days? . . . But that’s not good for his health. Even Gandhi went only two days at the most. Well, there’s not much, but please eat all you want.
WOMAN (passing the plate of cookies): Please take one.
BROTHER: Thank you. (Bows politely, takes one, and eats slowly.)
WOMAN: Chew it well. The better we chew our food, the better it is for us.
BROTHER: Yes.
WIFE: You are a good sister. And your brother is very polite.
MAN: He’s very sensible. That’s an excellent quality.
WOMAN: When you are ready, tell Father and Mother your story.
BROTHER: All right. But it’s not necessary.
WOMAN: Why?
BROTHER: I can tell them later.
WOMAN: My brother is very reserved. Shy. Bashful and uncommunicative besides.
WIFE: But that’s good. Not to talk too much is excellent in a man.
MAN: Yes, that’s true. Real gentlemen usually don’t talk much. Still, to say that it is excellent not to talk misses the point. Speaking from my long experience, I would say that you should talk when it is time to talk. To be more precise, then, it is excellent in a man not to talk when it isn’t time to talk.
WOMAN: Mother, won’t you tell my brother something about when he was little?
WIFE: But, you know, you’re confused about that. We never had a son.
MAN: We never had a son. We had a daughter. And she died. So there are no children. None. . . .
WOMAN: We can’t get Father to believe us. . . .
WIFE: But . . . really . . .
BROTHER: Mother . . .
WIFE: Me?
BROTHER: A long time ago, you suffered from a bad case of asthma. I remember that very well. I used to rub your back. You’d be short of breath, and your face would get red. To see you bent over suffering like that was terrible. When I rubbed your back, that seemed to help, though, and you would go to sleep. . . .
WIFE: My, I wonder if that could be true. . . .
MAN: Did you ever have asthma?
WIFE: No.
MAN: Then this story doesn’t fit, does it?
WIFE: But when a person catches a cold they cough a little.
WOMAN: That must be it . . . that Mother had a cold, and that’s what he’s remembering. He has a very good memory. Would you like another one? (Offering him the plate of cookies.)
BROTHER: No, that’s fine.
WOMAN: You needn’t hold back. This is our home.
> BROTHER: All right, then. Thank you. (Takes one.)
MAN: Now . . . please listen carefully. I want this quite clear.
WOMAN: He remembers everything . . . many things about Father and Mother in far greater detail than I can.
MAN: That’s all very well, but . . . now listen! We did not have a son! I want to make that very clear. Did not have! That’s the truth! We had a daughter. We had a cat. But no son. There . . . never . . . was . . . one. Do you understand? All right. Now, saying that doesn’t mean that I want to put the two of you out. So please, just relax. Eat as much as you like. Drink as much as you like. I just want to make this one point. It may seem a mean thing to say, but I think it’s important to be sure that it’s clear. About this . . . this house. It is our home! You . . . are our guests.
WIFE: Dear, don’t be so . . .
MAN: I know. Yes, I know. Please don’t misunderstand me. And if we agree on that one point, then we might welcome you as if you were a real daughter and a real son. Wouldn’t you say that we have welcomed you almost as we might have a real son and daughter?
BROTHER: And Father suffered from neuralgia. Whenever it got cold, he had a pain in his hips. When that happened, he got irritable. Mother, and Sister, you both knew that. So, whenever he had an attack, you’d go out and leave me home alone with him. His sickness was the cause, of course, but he sometimes hit me and kicked me. At first I would yell, “It hurts! It hurts!”— and cry. But I soon stopped that. Because, no matter how much I cried, he still kept on. I just learned to endure it. But, from that time on, my arm bends like this.
Moves his left arm with a jerk.
MAN: I never had anything like neuralgia. . . .
WOMAN: His endurance is remarkable. No matter what happens, he never cries. Here, have another. (Offering him the cookies.)
BROTHER: Thank you. (Taking one.)
WOMAN: He’s just naturally mistreated by everyone. He’s hit and he’s kicked. But he bears it patiently. He keeps quiet; he crouches down; he rolls up on the ground in a ball. But he doesn’t cry.
MAN: I have never once used violence against another person. . . .
WOMAN: But, Father, he doesn’t hold it against you. I have taught him that that isn’t good. It wasn’t your fault. You were sick.
MAN: I had no son.
BROTHER: Father, I don’t hold it against you. It was because you were sick. That’s what made you do it. Sometimes my arm hurts. When it gets cold . . . just like with your neuralgia . . . there’s a sharp pain, right here. But I put up with it. I accept it. Sister said, “Please endure it.” So I do. I endure it.
WOMAN: His body is covered with bruises. It’s terrible. But he doesn’t complain. He puts up with it. Show Father and Mother . . . so they can see just how much you’ve endured.
BROTHER: Yes, Sister. (Begins to unbutton his clothing.)
WIFE: Stop! Please, stop. Don’t do that! I understand. I believe you. You probably are our son.
The brother, uncovering his upper body, stands up.
MAN (standing, solemnly): I see. You’re the one. You were born. I wanted it. I always wanted a son. So you were born. Evidently that’s what it is. They say that if you want something badly enough you’ll get it, don’t they? That was you. And I never knew it at all . . . it’s unbelievable. I’m really surprised that you were born. (Pause.) This one . . . kept quiet about it, and I never knew it. That’s clear. And you . . . you are my daughter. It’s no mistake. I thought that you were dead, but you were alive. The little girl I was chasing that evening was someone else. You say that’s so, so it must be. It was a dark evening. To me it was just a fluttering white thing dancing in the wind. That wasn’t you. You went flying the other way, running somewhere else. And you never came back. That must be what happened. So you are my daughter and son. My real daughter and son. I remember everything. So then . . . what do you want? What now? . . . Since I am your father, what do you want me to do for you? To look at you with affection? To speak to you in a tender, caring voice? Or do you want money? What is it? . . .
WOMAN: Father?
MAN: What?
WOMAN (quietly): And Mother. We don’t want you to misunderstand either. We didn’t come here to trick you, or to beg for anything. We really are your son and daughter . . . that’s all. . . .
MAN: Really? And I never knew. (To his wife.) Please ask these people to leave. We must go to bed now. We old people become sleepy earlier than you young people do.
WOMAN: Father.
MAN: Get out.
BROTHER: Not so loud. Please. The children have just fallen asleep.
MAN: Children?
WOMAN: My children. The two-year-old and four-year-old I told you about. I had them come in. It was presumptuous of me, I know. But I couldn’t leave them out there in the cold. They were already almost frozen. They couldn’t even cry. I felt so sorry for them. . . .
WIFE: Please leave.
WOMAN: Mother . . . don’t be so cruel. . . .
WIFE: Please go. I beg you. Just go. I can’t stand it. I’ll give you money. It’s so disagreeable. This is our house.
BROTHER: That’s all right with me, Mother, but please think about the children. They’re sleeping now, but they’re very hungry. My sister has nothing to feed them. We kept telling them, as we came, “When we see Father and Mother, we’ll ask them for something for you to eat.” We barely got them to walk here. My sister is exhausted. Extremely exhausted. We walked for a long time.
WOMAN: But we are finally able to meet you, Mother. We walked a long way. It was very cold. Snow was falling. . . . (Gradually laying down her head and seeming to fall asleep.) Just for one look at Father and Mother . . . that’s all we were thinking. . . .
WOMAN’S VOICE: To warm her freezing hands the little girl struck the match she was holding. The tiny stick flickered for a moment, enveloping the area in bright light. The ice and snow glittered a purple color. But, then, the match went out. The little girl remained there, crouching all alone on the cold stone pavement, with the wind blowing, freezing.
The woman’s head is on her crossed arms on the table.
WIFE: What happened to her? What’s your sister doing?
MAN: She’s sleeping.
BROTHER: Sleeping. Sometimes she sleeps. Then, sometimes, she wakes up.
WIFE: My, I wonder if she is crying . . . look. . . .
BROTHER: Yes, she’s crying. She cries in her sleep. She’s very unhappy.
MAN: Will you please wake her up, and leave? Look, I don’t say that out of meanness. If you hadn’t come with a strange trick like this, if you had come without saying anything, you would have received a warm welcome. Really. But now listen to me. Are you listening?
BROTHER: Yes.
MAN: Please leave.
BROTHER: But my sister is very tired.
MAN: Are you her real brother?
BROTHER: Yes, I really am . . .
WIFE: Since when have you thought that?
BROTHER: What?
WIFE: How long ago did you become aware that she was your sister?
BROTHER: That was quite a while ago . . . quite a while . . .
WIFE: Please try to remember clearly. It’s very important.
BROTHER: But even when I first became aware of it, she was already my sister. . . .
MAN: Already at the time you became aware of it? . . . Well, that’s not a very reasonable story.
WIFE: There had to be something before that.
BROTHER: There were many things. Many things. Then I suddenly realized . . . she was my sister.
MAN: It sounds like a miracle. . . .
Pause. The brother gets up stealthily, takes a cookie from the table, goes back, sits down, and eats it.
MAN (lost in thought. To his wife): Can you remember back to that time? We were sitting somewhere on a sunny hill . . . the sky was blue, white clouds were floating lightly by, there was not a breath of wind . . . perhaps dandelions were blooming. . . .
WIFE
(prompted to reflection): There was that, too, wasn’t there?
MAN (in the same mood): And then . . . some large thing was dead . . . alongside the road . . . what was it? . . .
WIFE (in the same mood): A cow . . . it was a large, gray-colored cow . . . just like a cloud. . . .
MAN: Ah, was it a cow? That thing . . . just like a cloud . . .
WIFE: How about it, dear?
MAN: About what?
WIFE: These people . . . should we keep them overnight? . . .
MAN: Well, I was thinking that, too. We’ll let them stay.
WIFE: I feel sorry for them.
MAN: Right, and people like that, no matter how they seem, they are unfortunate.
WIFE: Let’s be kind to them.
MAN: Let’s do that. Because there’s nothing wrong in that.
WIFE: You two. It’ll be all right for you to stay here tonight. We’ll let you stay.
MAN: Make yourself at home. These other things . . . well, let’s talk about them later. . . .
WIFE: Do you understand?
BROTHER: Yes, but that isn’t necessary. Don’t worry about us. Just leave us alone.
WIFE: Tell your sister, too, to put her mind at ease.
BROTHER: She already knows.
MAN: She already knows.
BROTHER: She told me that a while ago . . . that Mother had asked us to stay.
WIFE: Mother?
BROTHER: Yes.
WIFE: Meaning me?
BROTHER: That’s right.
WIFE: So . . . then that’s all right.
BROTHER: Is it all right if I take one more?
WIFE: Yes.
He eats a cookie.
MAN’S VOICE: Good evening.
MAN: Good evening.
MAN’S VOICE: I’m a city fire marshal. Is anything missing in your home. Is anything lost? Has anything disappeared?
MAN: Has anything?
WIFE: No.
MAN: It seems not.
MAN’S VOICE: So everything is in order?
MAN: I can’t say that absolutely. You see, this is a very poor household.
MAN’S VOICE: How about your fire?
WIFE: It’s all right. We haven’t gone to bed yet.
MAN’S VOICE: Not yet? But you’re not going to stay up all night, are you?
MAN: We’ll check it before going to bed.
MAN’S VOICE: Did you notice?
MAN: What?
MAN’S VOICE: Can you hear the breathing of someone sleeping? Two small ones . . .
