Plays Part 20

TOM: You're making me suffer, Claire.

CLAIRE: I know I am. I want to. Why shouldn't you suffer? (now seeing it more clearly than she has ever seen it) You know what I think about you? You're afraid of suffering, and so you stop this side-in what you persuade yourself is suffering, (waits, then sends it straight) You know-how it is-with me and d.i.c.k? (as she sees him suffer) Oh, no, I don't want to hurt you! Let it be you! I'll teach you-you needn't scorn it. It's rather wonderful.

TOM: Stop that, Claire! That isn't you.

CLAIRE: Why are you so afraid-of letting me be low-if that is low? You see-(cannily) I believe in beauty. I have the faith that can be bad as well as good. And you know why I have the faith? Because sometimes-from my lowest moments-beauty has opened as the sea. From a cave I saw immensity.

My love, you're going away- Let me tell you how it is with me; I want to touch you-somehow touch you once before I die- Let me tell you how it is with me.

I do not want to work, I want to be; Do not want to make a rose or make a poem- Want to lie upon the earth and know. (closes her eyes) Stop doing that!-words going into patterns; They do it sometimes when I let come what's there.

Thoughts take pattern-then the pattern is the thing.

But let me tell you how it is with me. (it flows again) All that I do or say-it is to what it comes from, A drop lifted from the sea.

I want to lie upon the earth and know.

But-scratch a little dirt and make a flower; Scratch a bit of brain-something like a poem. (covering her face) Stop doing that. Help me stop doing that!

TOM: (and from the place where she had carried him)

Don't talk at all. Lie still and know- And know that I am knowing.

CLAIRE:

Yes; but we are so weak we have to talk; To talk-to touch.

Why can't I rest in knowing I would give my life to reach you?

That has-all there is.

But I must-put my timid hands upon you, Do something about infinity.

Oh, let what will flow into us, And fill us full-and leave us still.

Wring me dry, And let me fill again with life more pure.

To know-to feel, And do nothing with what I feel and know- That's being good. That's nearer G.o.d.

(drenched in the feeling that has flowed through her-but surprised-helpless) Why, I said your thing, didn't I? Opened my life to bring you to me, and what came-is what sends you away.

TOM: No! What came is what holds us together. What came is what saves us from ever going apart. (brokenly) My beautiful one. You-you brave flower of all our knowing.

CLAIRE: I am not a flower. I am too torn. If you have anything-help me. Breathe, Breathe the healing oneness, and let me know in calm. (with a sob his head rests upon her)

CLAIRE: (her hands on his head, but looking far) Beauty-you pure one thing. Breathe-Let me know in calm. Then-trouble me, trouble me, for other moments-in farther calm. (slow, motionless, barely articulate)

TOM: (as she does not move he lifts his head. And even as he looks at her, she does not move, nor look at him) Claire-(his hand out to her, a little afraid) You went away from me then. You are away from me now.

CLAIRE: Yes, and I could go on. But I will come back, (it is hard to do. She brings much with her) That, too, I will give you-my by-myself-ness. That's the uttermost I can give. I never thought-to try to give it. But let us do it-the great sacrilege! Yes! (excited, she rises; she has his hands, and bring him up beside her) Let us take the mad chance! Perhaps it's the only way to save-what's there. How do we know? How can we know? Risk. Risk everything. From all that flows into us, let it rise! All that we never thought to use to make a moment-let it flow into what could be! Bring all into life between us-or send all down to death! Oh, do you know what I am doing? Risk, risk everything, why are you so afraid to lose? What holds you from me? Test all. Let it live or let it die. It is our chance-our chance to bear-what's there. My dear one-I will love you so. With all of me. I am not afraid now-of-all of me. Be generous. Be unafraid. Life is for life-though it cuts us from the farthest life. How can I make you know that's true? All that we're open to-(hesitates, shudders) But yes-I will, I will risk the life that waits. Perhaps only he who gives his loneliness-shall find. You never keep by holding, (gesture of giving) To the uttermost. And it is gone-or it is there. You do not know and-that makes the moment-(music has begun-a phonograph downstairs; they do not heed it) Just as I would cut my wrists-(holding them out) Yes, perhaps this lesser thing will tell it-would cut my wrists and let the blood flow out till all is gone if my last drop would make-would make-(looking at them fascinated) I want to see it doing that! Let me give my last chance for life to-

(He s.n.a.t.c.hes her-they are on the brink of their moment; now that there are no words the phonograph from downstairs is louder. It is playing languorously the Barcarole; they become conscious of this-they do not want to be touched by the love song.)

CLAIRE: Don't listen. That's nothing. This isn't that, (fearing) I tell you-it isn't that. Yes, I know-that's amorous-enclosing. I know-a little place. This isn't that, (her arms going around him-all the lure of 'that' while she pleads against it as it comes up to them) We will come out-to radiance-in far places (admitting, using) Oh, then let it be that! Go with it. Give up-the otherness. I will! And in the giving up-perhaps a door-we'd never find by searching. And if it's no more-than all have known, I only say it's worth the allness! (her arms wrapped round him) My love-my love-let go your pride in loneliness and let me give you joy!

TOM: (drenched in her pa.s.sion, but fighting) It's you. (in anguish) You rare thing untouched-not-not into this-not back into this-by me-lover of your apartness.

(She steps back. She sees he cannot. She stands there, before what she wanted more than life, and almost had, and lost. A long moment. Then she runs down the stairs.)

CLAIRE: (her voice coming up) Harry! Choke that phonograph! If you want to be lewd-do it yourselves! You tawdry things-you cheap little lewd cowards, (a door heard opening below) Harry! If you don't stop that music, I'll kill myself.

(far down, steps on stairs)

HARRY: Claire, what is this?

CLAIRE: Stop that phonograph or I'll-

HARRY: Why, of course I'll stop it. What-what is there to get so excited about? Now-now just a minute, dear. It'll take a minute.

(CLAIRE comes back upstairs, dragging steps, face ghastly. The amorous song still comes up, and louder now that doors are open. She and TOM do not look at one another. Then, on a languorous swell the music comes to a grating stop. They do not speak or move. Quick footsteps-HARRY comes up.)

HARRY: What in the world were you saying, Claire? Certainly you could have asked me more quietly to turn off the Victrola. Though what harm was it doing you-way up here? (a sharp little sound from CLAIRE; she checks it, her hand over her mouth. HARRY looks from her to TOM) Well, I think you two would better have had your dinner. Won't you come down now and have some?

CLAIRE: (only now taking her hand from her mouth) Harry, tell him to come up here-that insanity man. I-want to ask him something.

HARRY: 'Insanity man!' How absurd. He's a nerve specialist. There's a vast difference.

CLAIRE: Is there? Anyway, ask him to come up here. Want to-ask him something.

TOM: (speaking with difficulty) Wouldn't it be better for us to go down there?

CLAIRE: No. So nice up here! Everybody-up here!

HARRY: (worried) You'll-be yourself, will you, Claire? (She checks a laugh, nods.) I think he can help you.

CLAIRE: Want to ask him to-help me.

HARRY: (as he is starting down) He's here as a guest to-night, you know, Claire.

CLAIRE: I suppose a guest can-help one.

TOM: (when the silence rejects it) Claire, you must know, it's because it is so much, so-

CLAIRE: Be still. There isn't anything to say.

TOM: (torn-tortured) If it only weren't you!

CLAIRE: Yes,-so you said. If it weren't. I suppose I wouldn't be so-interested! (hears them starting up below-keeps looking at the place where they will appear)

(HARRY is heard to call, 'Coming, d.i.c.k?' and d.i.c.k's voice replies, 'In a moment or two.' ADELAIDE comes first.)

ADELAIDE: (as her head appears) Well, these stairs should keep down weight. You missed an awfully good dinner, Claire. And kept Mr Edgeworth from a good dinner.

CLAIRE: Yes. We missed our dinner. (her eyes do not leave the place where DR EMMONS will come up)

HARRY: (as he and EMMONS appear) Claire, this is-

CLAIRE: Yes, I know who he is. I want to ask you-

ADELAIDE: Let the poor man get his breath before you ask him anything. (he nods, smiles, looks at CLAIRE with interest. Careful not to look too long at her, surveys the tower)

EMMONS: Curious place.