Plays Part 11

HARRY: Well, thank heaven (exhausted) that's over.

CLAIRE: (sitting on the top step) It was all so queer. He locked out on his side of the door. You locked in on yours. Looking right at each other and-

HARRY: (in mockery) And me trying to tell him to kindly fetch the salt!

CLAIRE: Yes.

HARRY: (to d.i.c.k) Well, I didn't do so bad a job, did I? Quite an idea, explaining our situation with the thermometer and the flower-pot. That was really an apology for keeping him out there. Heaven knows-some explanation was in order, (he is watching, and sees TOM coming) Now there he is, Claire. And probably pretty well fed up with the weather.

(CLAIRE goes to the door, stops before it. She and TOM look at each other through the gla.s.s. Then she lets him in.)

TOM: And now I am in. For a time it seemed I was not to be in. But after I got the idea that you were keeping me out there to see if I could get the idea-it would be too humiliating for a wall of gla.s.s to keep one from understanding. (taking it from his pocket) So there's the other thermometer. Where do you want it? (CLAIRE takes it)

CLAIRE: And where's the pepper?

TOM: (putting it on the table) And here's the pepper.

HARRY: Pepper?

TOM: When Claire sneezed I knew-

CLAIRE: Yes, I knew if I sneezed you would bring the pepper.

TOM: Funny how one always remembers the salt, but the pepper gets overlooked in preparations. And what is an egg without pepper?

HARRY: (nastily) There's your egg, Edgeworth. (pointing to it on the floor) Claire decided it would be a good idea to smash everything, so she began with your egg.

TOM: (looking at his egg) The idea of smas.h.i.+ng everything is really more intriguing than an egg.

HARRY: Nice that you feel that way about it.

CLAIRE: (giving TOM his coffee) You want to hear something amusing? I married Harry because I thought he would smash something.

HARRY: Well, that was an error in judgment.

CLAIRE: I'm such a naive trusting person (HARRY laughs-CLAIRE gives him a surprised look, continues simply). Such a guileless soul that I thought flying would do something to a man. But it didn't take us out. We just took it in.

TOM: It's only our own spirit can take us out.

HARRY: Whatever you mean by out.

CLAIRE: (after looking intently at TOM, and considering it) But our own spirit is not something on the loose. Mine isn't. It has something to do with what I do. To fly. To be free in air. To look from above on the world of all my days. Be where man has never been! Yes-wouldn't you think the spirit could get the idea? The earth grows smaller. I am leaving. What are they-running around down there? Why do they run around down there? Houses? Houses are funny lines and down-going slants-houses are vanis.h.i.+ng slants. I am alone. Can I breathe this rarer air? Shall I go higher? Shall I go too high? I am loose. I am out. But no; man flew, and returned to earth the man who left it.

HARRY: And jolly well likely not to have returned at all if he'd had those flighty notions while operating a machine.

CLAIRE: Oh, Harry! (not lightly asked) Can't you see it would be better not to have returned than to return the man who left it?

HARRY: I have some regard for human life.

CLAIRE: Why, no-I am the one who has the regard for human life, (more lightly) That was why I swiftly divorced my stick-in-the-mud artist and married-the man of flight. But I merely pa.s.sed from a stick-in-the-mud artist to a-

d.i.c.k: Stick-in-the-air aviator?

HARRY: Speaking of your stick-in-the-mud artist, as you romantically call your first blunder, isn't his daughter-and yours-due here to-day?

CLAIRE: I knew something was disturbing me. Elizabeth. A daughter is being delivered unto me this morning. I have a feeling it will be more painful than the original delivery. She has been, as they quaintly say, educated; prepared for her place in life.

HARRY: And fortunately Claire has a sister who is willing to give her young niece that place.

CLAIRE: The idea of giving anyone a place in life.

HARRY: Yes! The very idea!

CLAIRE: Yes! (as often, the mocking thing gives true expression to what lies sombrely in her) The war. There was another gorgeous chance.

HARRY: Chance for what? I call you, Claire. I ask you to say what you mean.

CLAIRE: I don't know-precisely. If I did-there'd be no use saying it. (at HARRY's impatient exclamation she turns to TOM)

TOM: (nodding) The only thing left worth saying is the thing we can't say.

HARRY: Help!

CLAIRE: Yes. But the war didn't help. Oh, it was a stunning chance! But fast as we could-scuttled right back to the trim little thing we'd been shocked out of.

HARRY: You bet we did-showing our good sense.

CLAIRE: Showing our incapacity-for madness.

HARRY: Oh, come now, Claire-snap out of it. You're not really trying to say that capacity for madness is a good thing to have?

CLAIRE: (in simple surprise) Why yes, of course.

d.i.c.k: But I should say the war did leave enough madness to give you a gleam of hope.

CLAIRE: Not the madness that-breaks through. And it was-a stunning chance! Mankind ma.s.sed to kill. We have failed. We are through. We will destroy. Break this up-it can't go farther. In the air above-in the sea below-it is to kill! All we had thought we were-we aren't. We were shut in with what wasn't so. Is there one ounce of energy has not gone to this killing? Is there one love not torn in two? Throw it in! Now? Ready? Break up. Push. Harder. Break up. And then-and then-But we didn't say-'And then-' The spirit didn't take the tip.

HARRY: Claire! Come now (looking to the others for help)-let's talk of something else.

CLAIRE: Plants do it. The big leap-it's called. Explode their species-because something in them knows they've gone as far as they can go. Something in them knows they're shut in to just that. So-go mad-that life may not be prisoned. Break themselves up into crazy things-into lesser things, and from the pieces-may come one sliver of life with vitality to find the future. How beautiful. How brave.

TOM: (as if he would call her from too far-or would let her know he has gone with her) Claire!

CLAIRE: (her eyes turning to him) Why should we mind lying under the earth? We who have no such initiative-no proud madness? Why think it death to lie under life so flexible-so ruthless and ever-renewing?

ANTHONY: (from the door of the inner room) Miss Claire?

CLAIRE: (after an instant) Yes? (she goes with him, as they disappear his voice heard,'show me now ... want those violets bedded')