The Road to Damascus, a Trilogy Part 38
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STRANGER. What illusions you must have! Childis.h.!.+ I lift you up! I who am down below. Yet I'm not; it's not I who sit here, for I'm dead. I know that my soul's far away, far, far away.... (He stares in front of him with an absent-minded air)... where a great lake lies in the suns.h.i.+ne like molten gold; where roses blossom on the wall amongst the vines; where a white cot stands under the acacias. But the child's asleep and the mother's sitting beside the cot doing crochet work.
There's a long, long strip coming from her mouth and on the strip is written... wait... 'Blessed are the sorrowful, for they shall be comforted.' But that's not so, really. I shall never be comforted. Tell me, isn't there thunder in the air, it's so close, so hot?
WOMAN (looking out of the window). No. I can see no clouds out there....
STRANGER. Strange... that's lightning.
WOMAN. No. You're wrong.
STRANGER. One, two, three, four, five... now the thunder must come! But it doesn't. I've never been frightened of a thunderstorm until to-day--I mean, until to-night. But is it day or night?
WOMAN. My dear, it's night.
STRANGER. Yes. It _is_ night.
(The DOCTOR has come in during this scene and has sat down behind the STRANGER, without having been seen by him.)
WAITRESS. Don't speak so loud, there's a sick person in here.
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Give me your hand.
WOMAN (wiping it on her ap.r.o.n). Oh, why?
STRANGER. You've a lovely white hand. But... look at mine. It's black.
Can't you see it's black?
WOMAN. Yes. So it is!
STRANGER. Blackened already, perhaps even rotten? I must see if my heart's stopped. (He puts his hand to his heart.) Yes. It has! So I'm dead, and I know when I died. Strange, to be dead, and yet to be going about. But where am I? Are all these people dead, too? They look as if they'd risen from the sewers of the town, or as if they'd come from prison, poorhouse or lock hospital. They're workers of the night, suffering, groaning, cursing, quarrelling, torturing one another, dishonouring one another, envying one another, as if they possessed anything worthy of envy! The fire of sleep courses through their veins, their tongues cleave to their palates, grown dry through cursing; and then they put out the blaze with water, with fire-water, that engenders fresh thirst. With fire-water, that itself burns with a blue flame and consumes the soul like a prairie fire, that leaves nothing behind it but red sand. (He drinks.) Set fire to it. Put it out again. Set fire to it.
Put it out again! But what you can't burn up--unluckily--is the memory of what's past. How can that memory be burned to ashes?
WAITRESS. Please don't speak so loud, there's a sick man in here. So ill, that he's already asked to be given the sacrament.
STRANGER. May he soon go to h.e.l.l!
(Those present murmur at this, resenting it.)
WAITRESS. Take care! Take care!
WOMAN (to the STRANGER). Do you know that man who's been sitting behind you, staring at you all the time?
STRANGER (turning. He and the DOCTOR stare at one another for a moment, without speaking). Yes. I used to know him once.
WOMAN. He looks as if he'd like to bite you in the back.
(The DOCTOR sits down opposite the STRANGER and stares at him.)
STRANGER. What are you looking at?
DOCTOR. Your grey hairs.
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Is my hair grey?
WOMAN. Yes. Indeed it is!
DOCTOR. And now I'm looking at your fair companion. Sometimes you have good taste. Sometimes not.
STRANGER. And sometimes you have the misfortune to have the same taste as I.
DOCTOR. That wasn't a kind remark! But you've killed me twice in your lifetime; so go on.
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Let's get away from here.
DOCTOR. You know when I'm near you. You feel my presence from afar. And I shall reach you, as the thunder will, whether you hide in the depths of the earth or of the sea.... Try to escape me, if you can!
STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Come with me. Lead me... I can't see....
WOMAN. No, I don't want to go yet. I don't want to be bored.
DOCTOR. You're right there, daughter of joy! Life's hard enough without taking on yourself the sorrows others have brought on themselves. That man won't bear his own sorrows, but makes his wife shoulder the burden for him.
STRANGER. What's that? Wait! She bore false witness of a breach of the peace and attempted murder!
DOCTOR. Now he's putting the blame on her!
STRANGER (resting his head in his hands and letting it sink on to the table. In the far distance a violin and guitar are heard playing the following melody):
[See picture road1.jpg]
DOCTOR (to the WOMAN). Is he ill?
WOMAN. He must be mad; he says he's dead.
(In the distance drums beat the reveille and bugles are blown, but very softly.)
STRANGER. Is it morning? Night's pa.s.sing, the sun's rising and ghosts lie down to sleep again in graves. Now I can go. Come!
WOMAN (going nearer to the DOCTOR). No. I said no.
STRANGER. Even you, the last of all my friends! Am I such a wretched being, that not even a prost.i.tute will bear me company for money?
DOCTOR. You must be.
STRANGER. I don't believe it yet; although everyone tells me so. I don't believe anything at all, for every time I have, I've been deceived. But tell me this hasn't the sun yet risen? A little while ago I heard a c.o.c.k crow and a dog bark; and now they're ringing the Angelus.... Have they put out the lights, that it's so dark?
DOCTOR (to the WOMAN). He must be blind.
WOMAN. Yes. I think he is.
The Road to Damascus, a Trilogy Part 38
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The Road to Damascus, a Trilogy Part 38 summary
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