Read Complete Works of James Joyce Online
Authors: Unknown
619
BERTHA
(Points to the study.)
Dick is in there.
ROBERT
(Drops her hand.)
In that case children be good.
BERTHA
Where are you going?
ROBERT
To foreign parts. That is, to my cousin Jack Justice,
alias
Doggy Justice, in Surrey. He has a nice country place there and the air is mild.
BERTHA
Why are you going?
ROBERT
(Looks at her in silence.)
Can you not guess one reason?
BERTHA
On account of me?
ROBERT
Yes. It is not pleasant for me to remain here just now.
BERTHA
(Sits down helplessly.)
But this is cruel of you, Robert. Cruel to me and to him also.
ROBERT
Has he asked... what happened?
BERTHA
(Joining her hands in despair.)
No. He refuses to ask me anything. He says he will never know.
ROBERT
(Nods gravely.)
Richard is right there. He is always right.
BERTHA
But, Robert, you must speak to him.
ROBERT
What am I to say to him?
BERTHA
The truth! Everything!
ROBERT
(Reflects.)
No, Bertha. I am a man speaking to a man. I cannot tell him everything.
BERTHA
He will believe that you are going away because you are afraid to face him after last night.
ROBERT
(After a pause.)
Well, I am not a coward any more than he. I will see him.
BERTHA
(Rises.)
I will call him.
ROBERT
(Catching her hands.)
Bertha! What happened last night? What is the truth that I am to tell?
(He gazes earnestly into her eyes.)
Were you mine in that sacred night of love? Or have I dreamed it?
620
BERTHA
(Smiles faintly.)
Remember your dream of me. You dreamed that I was yours last night.
ROBERT
And that is the truth — a dream? That is what I am to tell?
BERTHA
Yes.
ROBERT
(Kisses both her hands.)
Bertha!
(In a softer voice.)
In all my life only that dream is real. I forget the rest.
(He kisses her hands again.)
And now I can tell him the truth. Call him.
(Bertha goes to the door of Richard’s study and knocks. There is no answer. She knocks again.)
BERTHA
Dick!
(There is no answer.)
Mr Hand is here. He wants to speak to you, to say goodbye. He is going away.
(There is no answer. She beats her hand loudly on the panel of the door and calls in an alarmed voice.)
Dick! Answer me!
(Richard Rowan comes in from the study. He comes at once to Robert but does not hold out his hand.)
RICHARD
(Calmly.)
I thank you for your kind article about me. Is it true that you have come to say goodbye?
ROBERT
There is nothing to thank me for, Richard. Now and always I am your friend. Now more than ever before. Do you believe me, Richard?
(Richard sits down on a chair and buries his face in his hands. Bertha and Robert gaze at each other in silence. Then she turns away and goes out quietly on the right. Robert goes towards Richard and stands near him, resting his hands on the back of a chair, looking down at him. There is a long silence. A fishwoman is heard crying out as she passes along the road outside.)
THE FISHWOMAN
Fresh Dublin bay herrings! Fresh Dublin bay herrings! Dublin bay herrings!
621
ROBERT
(Quietly.)
I will tell you the truth, Richard. Are you listening?
RICHARD
(Raises his face and leans back to listen.)
Yes.
(Robert sits on the chair beside him. The fishwoman is heard calling out farther away.)
THE FISHWOMAN
Fresh herrings! Dublin bay herrings!
ROBERT
I failed, Richard. That is the truth. Do you believe me?
RICHARD
I am listening.
ROBERT
I failed. She is yours, as she was nine years ago, when you met her first.
RICHARD
When we met her first, you mean.
ROBERT
Yes.
(He looks down for some moments.)
Shall I go on?
RICHARD
Yes.
ROBERT
She went away. I was left alone — for the second time. I went to the vicechancellor’s house and dined. I said you were ill and would come another night. I made epigrams new and old — that one about the statues also. I drank claret cup. I went to my office and wrote my article. Then...
RICHARD
Then?
ROBERT
Then I went to a certain nightclub. There were men there — and also women. At least, they looked like women. I danced with one of them. She asked me to see her home. Shall I go on?
RICHARD
Yes.
ROBERT
I saw her home in a cab. She lives near Donnybrook. In the cab took place what the subtle Duns Scotus calls a death of the spirit. Shall I go on?
RICHARD
Yes.
ROBERT
She wept. She told me she was the divorced wife of a barrister. I offered her a sovereign as she told me she was short of money. She would not take it and wept very much. Then she drank some melissa water from a little bottle which she had in her satchel. I saw her enter her house. Then I walked home. In my room I found that my coat was all stained with the melissa water. I had no luck even with my coats yesterday: that was the second one. The idea came to me then to change my suit and go away by the morning boat. I packed my valise and went to bed. I am going away by the next train to my cousin, Jack Justice, in Surrey. Perhaps for a fortnight. Perhaps longer. Are you disgusted?
622
RICHARD
Why did you not go by the boat?
ROBERT
I slept it out.
RICHARD
You intended to go without saying goodbye — without coming here?
ROBERT
Yes.
RICHARD
Why?
ROBERT
My story is not very nice, is it?
RICHARD
But you have come.
ROBERT
Bertha sent me a message to come.
RICHARD
But for that...?
ROBERT
But for that I should not have come.
RICHARD
Did it strike you that if you had gone without coming here I should have understood it — in my own way?
ROBERT
Yes, it did.
RICHARD
What, then, do you wish me to believe?
ROBERT
I wish you to believe that I failed. That Bertha is yours now as she was nine years ago, when you — when we — met her first.
RICHARD
Do you want to know what I did?
ROBERT
No.
RICHARD
I came home at once.
ROBERT
Did you hear Bertha return?
RICHARD
No. I wrote all the night. And thought.
(Pointing to the study.)
In there. Before dawn I went out and walked the strand from end to end.
623
ROBERT
(Shaking his head.)
Suffering. Torturing yourself.
RICHARD
Hearing voices about me. The voices of those who say they love me.
ROBERT
(Points to the door on the right.)
One. And mine?
RICHARD
Another still.
ROBERT
(Smiles and touches his forehead with his right forefinger.)
True. My interesting but somewhat melancholy cousin. And what did they tell you?
RICHARD
They told me to despair.
ROBERT
A queer way of showing their love, I must say! And will you despair?
RICHARD
(Rising.)
No.
(A noise is heard at the window. Archie’s face is seen flattened against one of the panes. He is heard calling.)
ARCHIE
Open the window! Open the window!
ROBERT
(Looks at Richard.)
Did you hear his voice, too, Richard, with the others — out there on the strand? Your son’s voice.
(Smiling.)
Listen! How full it is of despair!
ARCHIE
Open the window, please, will you?
ROBERT
Perhaps, there, Richard, is the freedom we seek — you in one way, I in another. In him and not in us. Perhaps...
RICHARD
Perhaps...?
ROBERT
I said
perhaps.
I would say almost surely if...
RICHARD
If what?
ROBERT
(With a faint smile.)
If he were mine.
(He goes to the window and opens it. Archie scrambles in.)
ROBERT
Like yesterday — eh?
624
ARCHIE
Good morning, Mr Hand.
(He runs to Richard and kisses him:) Buon giorno, babbo.
RICHARD
Buon giorno,
Archie.
ROBERT
And where were you, my young gentleman?
ARCHIE
Out with the milkman. I drove the horse. We went to Booterstown.
(He takes off his cap and throws it on a chair.)
I am very hungry.
ROBERT