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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other Plays + +Author: Olive Tilford Dargan and Frederick Peterson + +Release Date: December 23, 2006 [EBook #20172] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagei" name="pagei"></a>[i]</span> +</p> + +<!-- Suppress display of half-title page --> +<div class="halftitle"> + +<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h1> +THE FLUTTER +<br /> +OF THE GOLDLEAF +</h1> +<h2> +AND OTHER PLAYS +</h2> + +</div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pageii" name="pageii"></a>[ii]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pageiii" name="pageiii"></a>[iii]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h1> + THE FLUTTER +<br /> +OF THE GOLDLEAF +</h1> +<h2> +AND OTHER PLAYS +</h2> + +<h3> +BY<br /> +OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN +<br /> +AND<br /> +FREDERICK PETERSON +</h3> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p class="center"> +NEW YORK <br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS <br /> +1922 +</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pageiv" name="pageiv"></a>[iv]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="sc">Copyright, 1922, by</span> <br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS +</p> + +<p class="center"> +PRINTED AT <br /> +THE SCRIBNER PRESS <br /> +NEW YORK, U. S. A. +</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagev" name="pagev"></a>[v]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + CONTENTS +</h2> + +<table border="0" width="90%" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td></td><td align="right"><span class="scs">PAGE</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> + <a href="#h2H_4_0002"><span class="sc">The Flutter of the Goldleaf</span></a> +</td><td align="right">1</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<span class="scs">BY OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN AND FREDERICK PETERSON</span></td></tr> +<tr><td> + <a href="#h2H_4_0005"><span class="sc">The Journey</span></a> +</td><td align="right">49</td></tr> +<tr><td> + <span class="scs">BY OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN</span></td></tr> +<tr><td> + <a href="#h2H_4_0008"><span class="sc">Everychild</span></a> +</td><td align="right">75</td></tr> +<tr><td> + <span class="scs">BY FREDERICK PETERSON AND OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN</span></td></tr> +<tr><td> + <a href="#h2H_4_0012"><span class="sc">Two Doctors at Akragas</span></a> +</td><td align="right">103</td></tr> +<tr><td> + <span class="scs">BY FREDERICK PETERSON</span></td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagevi" name="pagevi"></a>[vi]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page1" name="page1"></a>[1]</span> +</p> + +<a name="h2H_4_0002" id="h2H_4_0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF +</h2> +<h3> + A PLAY IN ONE ACT +</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="sc">by</span> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Olive Tilford Dargan</span> +<br /> +<span class="sc">and</span> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Frederick Peterson</span> +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page2" name="page2"></a>[2]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + CHARACTERS +</h2> + +<p> <span class="sc">Philo Warner</span>, <i>a student</i></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Hiram Warner</span>, <i>his father, the village grocer</i></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Mary Ann Warner</span>, <i>his mother</i></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Dr. Bellows</span>, <i>the village physician</i></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Dr. Seymour</span>, <i>a city specialist</i></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Reba Sloan</span>, <i>a neighbor's daughter</i></p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page3" name="page3"></a>[3]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF +</h2> + +<p class="scene"> +<span class="sc">Scene</span>: <i>Laboratory in the attic of the Warner cottage. + At right, toward rear, entrance from down-stairs. A rude partition, + left, with door in centre. Window centre rear. Large kitchen table + loaded with apparatus. Shelves, similarly loaded, against wall near + table, right. Wires strung about. A rude couch, bench, and several + wooden chairs.</i> +</p> +<p class="scene2"> + <i>Time, about 8 p.m. Lamp burns on table.</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. Warner</span> <i>comes + up-stairs, puts her head inside the room nervously, then enters and + looks about.</i> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Such a mess! And the doctors will be here in half an hour! (<i>Tries to +get busy but seems bothered. Crosses to table and looks at a little +machine that stands upon it.</i>) <i>That's</i> what's driving my boy crazy! If +I only dared to smash it! The right sort of a mother would do just that! +(<i>Looks at machine with dire meditation.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> (<i>without, roaring up the stairs</i>) +</p> +<p> +Mary Ann! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page4" name="page4"></a>[4]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> (<i>jumps</i>) +</p> +<p> +Yes, Hiram! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> (<i>entering</i>) +</p> +<p> +Where's Philo? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +In the orchard. I watched my chance, and thought I'd redd up a little. +He won't let me touch anything when he's here. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Just about lives up here, don't he? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Day and night now, since he's been too sick to go to the store. And +I can't have Dr. Bellows bring in that specialist from New York with +things lookin' as if a woman had never come up the stairs. (<i>Dusting +and rattling.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Philo's not onto what the doctors are after, is he? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +He thinks they're coming to look at his machine mostly—and see what's +keepin' him awake nights. But maybe he knows. He's awful sharp. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Sharp? Wish he knew enough to sell eggs and bacon. He's ruinin' my +business. Weighs a + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page5" name="page5"></a>[5]</span> + + pound of coffee as if he was asleep. I can see +customers watchin' him out o' the tail o' their eye. They're gettin' +<i>afraid</i> of him! Mary Ann, the boy's going to be a shame to us. He's +crazy! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Don't you call <i>my</i> boy crazy. I won't hear it, Hiram. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +No, you'll wait till the whole village tells you! They're all talkin' +now! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +It's none o' their business! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +It'll be their business if he flies up and hurts somebody. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Philo wouldn't hurt anything alive. He got mad at me once for killin' +a spider. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> (<i>scornfully</i>) +</p> +<p> +Showed his sense there, didn't he? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +If Philo's queer it's not from my side of the house. You know what your +mother was like—wanderin' round nights starin' at the stars with that +old spy-glass Captain Barker gave her. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page6" name="page6"></a>[6]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +She was a good mother, all the same. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Couldn't cook at all. Your father only kept alive by eating at the +neighbors occasionally—and as for sewing and mending, you children went +in rags till your Aunt Sary came to live with you. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Mother thought a heap of us, though. I remember how she cried because I +wouldn't go to school and went into the grocery business. And she cried +a lot more when I married you. I couldn't understand her—<i>then</i>.... +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Humph! She'd been shut up fast enough if your father hadn't been the +softest-hearted man alive. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Maybe the boy does take after her, but he's worse'n she ever was. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +She didn't have any books—or college education—to turn her head. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Nothing to read but the <i>Weekly Mirror</i>. It was a good paper, though, +all about crops and stock, + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page7" name="page7"></a>[7]</span> + + and what the country people were doing, and +a love story on the inside page. Father subscribed on her account. She +told him her mind had to have <i>something</i> to work on. But she didn't +take to the paper, and he had to read it himself to get his money's +worth. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +A good thing she didn't have a library to get at like Philo. All those +books he brought home didn't do him any good. He began to get queer +about the time he was reading that set of Sir Humphry Davy's Complete +Works, with so much about electrics and the stars, and that sort of +stuff. If we could only get him to quit this studyin' and stay +out-o'-doors.... +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +S'pose we clear out this hole—burn the books, and get rid of all these +confounded wires and jars and fixings. I don't believe he saves a penny +of the wages I give him for helpin' to ruin me. All he makes goes for +this truck. We'll clear it out. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I've thought of that, but we oughtn't to go too far. They're his anyhow, +and I'm afraid—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Well, I'm not afraid! And I'll begin with this + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page8" name="page8"></a>[8]</span> + + devil! (<i>Pauses over +machine. Starts suddenly.</i>) What's that? He's coming! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> (<i>listening</i>) +</p> +<p> +It's only Alice going to her room. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Perhaps we'd better see what the specialist says first. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I know Dr. Bellows wants us to send Philo away. But I'm against that, +first and last. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +You wouldn't be if you'd listen to Bellows awhile. You know what he told +me when I met him this morning? "Why, Warner," he says, "I never go to +see the boy without taking a pair of handcuffs in my pocket. It's the +quiet ones that go the wildest when they do break out." +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, Hiram, it's not going to be so bad as that. Don't let him set you +against your own flesh and blood. Just let me manage awhile. He needs to +get stirred up about something—get his mind off this. I wish I hadn't +stopped those letters he was getting from Reba Sloan when she went off +to school two years ago. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page9" name="page9"></a>[9]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +But you said you'd rather see him dead than married to Sloan's girl. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I meant it, too! But seeing your child dead is not so bad as seeing him +crazy—and if Reba can save him—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +How in thunder—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +She's a taking girl, Hiram—since she got back. If Philo gets his mind +fixed on <i>her</i>, she'll soon have him forgettin' this. Why,—you remember +for three months before we were married you couldn't think o' nothing +but me. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Good Lord! Is that so, Mary Ann? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I had to hurry up the weddin' to save your business. You were letting +Jabe McKenny take all your trade right under your nose. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Sakes 'a' mighty! If I could come out of a spell like that, there's some +hope for our poor chap. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page10" name="page10"></a>[10]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +That's what I'm telling you! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +But Reba's father—you going to have old fiddler Sloan in the family? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +He's come into some money now, and any gentleman can take an interest +in music. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +And the mother was that foreign woman. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +But she's dead. It's just as well Philo won't have a mother-in-law. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Reba'll have one, all right. If Philo stays queer it'll be hard on the +girl, won't it? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +He'll not stay queer. If he gets that girl in his head there won't be +room for anything else—for a while anyway. He'll be worse'n you ever +was. You let me manage it, Hiram. +</p> +<p class="stage"> +(<span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>is heard coming up the stairs. They listen in silence + until he enters. He is talking, not quite audibly, to himself, and + doesn't see them. Goes to table and stands by machine.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page11" name="page11"></a>[11]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Here—at last—I have caught the word ... the word of the stars. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Philo! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>looking up</i>) +</p> +<p> +Mother!... Father!... (<i>In alarm.</i>) You haven't touched anything here? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +No, my son. I've just put the place to rights a bit. Dr. Seymour is +coming, you know. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes. (<i>Walks the floor, meditating.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +You must come out of this dream, Philo. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +It is not a dream! I am the only being in the world who is awake! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +My son! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Man sleeps—like the rocks, trees, hills—while all around him, out of +the unseen, beating on blind eyes, deaf ears, numbed brain, sweep the +winds of eternity, the ether waves, the signals from the deeps of space! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page12" name="page12"></a>[12]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Hey, diddle, diddle! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Sleep-walkers all—the people in the streets, the shops—the mad people +with their heaps of gold! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Now don't work yourself up, Philo, with the doctor coming. You want to +tell him about your machine. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes. He is a great man. He has studied these things. I will talk to him. +He will not laugh. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Mary Ann, don't you think we'd better bring up some cider? It'll look +more hospitable like. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +That city doctor won't care anything about cider. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +My cider's good enough for anybody! And Dr. Bellows'll be sure to ask +for it. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Well, wait till he does. (<i>Looks uneasily about room.</i>) Don't you think, +son, that if you're going to take to having visitors here I'd better + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page13" name="page13"></a>[13]</span> + + move some furniture up? You could have the haircloth sofa—the springs +are broke anyway—and Alice says she don't want the wax flowers in the +parlor any more. They're turnin' yellow, but you wouldn't notice it up +here. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>clinching his hands</i>) +</p> +<p> +Do what you like, mother, only don't take anything <i>out</i>. If anything +happened to my work I believe I'd go crazy! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>The parents look at each other.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Thought your work was tendin' the store. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Brother Will is more help there than I am, father. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +You're right about that. Will's got a head on. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +You'd better go down, Hiram, and meet the doctors. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Alice'll show them up. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Where's that strange smell comin' from? Do you work in the other room, +too, Philo? (<i>Goes in, left.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page14" name="page14"></a>[14]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Father ... I'm sorry about the store ... I wish I could tell you ... but +what's the use? You won't believe! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Re-enter</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Gracious! I couldn't breathe in there! Got to clear <i>something</i> out +before Reba comes up here. She'd have no respect for my housekeeping. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Reba? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Reba Sloan. She's been asking if she couldn't come. She's just wild to +see your machine. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Don't you ever let her up here, mother! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +But she asked me, Philo—and a neighbor's daughter, you know—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I thought she was away from home. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Been back a month—walks all about right under your eyes. You ought to +be <i>civil</i>, Philo. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I want to see Dr. Seymour. I should like to + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page15" name="page15"></a>[15]</span> + + have him know what I'm +doing. But if you're going to turn the whole village in here, I'll bar +the door, that's all. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +My son, if you'd only interest yourself a little—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I'm not interested in anything nearer than thirty-five million miles! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +What did I tell you, Mary Ann? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I hear the doctors! Now, Philo, if you can't talk sense, don't say +<i>anything</i>. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Seymour</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Bellows</span>.) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Good evening, Warner. How d' do, Mrs. Warner! My friend, Dr. Seymour. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner and Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +How do you do, sir! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Philo, I've brought Dr. Seymour around to have a talk with you. He's +down from New York for a day or two. Been sleeping any better? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page16" name="page16"></a>[16]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Too much. I need all my time. I'm very glad to see you, Dr. Seymour. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>All take seats.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I hope you'll excuse the looks of the room, doctor. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +It looks very interesting indeed to me, Mrs. Warner. The workshop of a +student, and a busy one. (<i>To</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span>.) You've been working too +hard, I see. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I'm tired, perhaps, but I am well. When a man makes a momentous +discovery he is apt to be overwrought. He may not eat or sleep well for +a time. He may even appear to be strange or mad. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> <i>coughs suddenly.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I'm afraid that's not a comfortable chair, Dr. Seymour. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Quite comfortable, Mrs. Warner. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> (<i>rapidly</i>) +</p> +<p> +Philo is my oldest boy, and I never could keep + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page17" name="page17"></a>[17]</span> + + him away from books. Will, +my second son, is as steady in the store as his father himself, and +Johnny is just fine on the wagon. As for Alice, there's not a neater +all-round girl to be found anywhere. They're healthy, sensible children, +every one of 'em, and don't care what's inside any book in the +world—but Philo was just bent on going to college—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +A very natural bent for an ambitious boy. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Tell us about the discovery, Philo, my lad. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>rising and walking slowly up and down the room</i>) +</p> +<p> +I think I will. It will be another experiment. I know what the effect +will be on Dr. Bellows. He is an old friend of mine—but you, sir, are a +stranger. I should like to try your mind and see if you are awake or +asleep. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Bellows</span> <i>winks toward</i> <span class="sc">Seymour</span>, <i>who takes no + notice, but gives</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>careful attention.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +I hope I shall not disappoint you. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I believe we have some points of view in common, for your profession +needs to take note of + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page18" name="page18"></a>[18]</span> + + many problems connected with both evolution and +electricity. I have been a reader of general science for many years. The +fact that on the earth we have had a slow evolution from a monad to a +man contains a promise of further development of man into—let us say an +angel. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Not very soon, I guess. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>sharply</i>) +</p> +<p> +Hardly in your day, doctor. You needn't worry about the fashion in +wing-feathers. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Go on, Mr. Warner. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +In others of the many millions of globes about us in space, a similar +evolution is going on, and in some the evolution is less advanced than +in ours, in others incomparably more advanced. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +We may admit that. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Bellows</span> <i>looks to</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span> <i>for sympathy, and + shakes his head.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +We have reached a stage when we have begun to peer out into the stellar +depths and question them. We are beginning to master the light and + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page19" name="page19"></a>[19]</span> + + the +lightning, to measure the vastness of space, to weigh the suns, to +determine the elements that comprise them, to talk and send messages +thousands of miles without wires. Each year uncovers new wonders, +infinitely minute, infinitely great. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +True,—all true. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>becoming more repressed and tensely excited as he goes on</i>) +</p> +<p> +The dreams of the alchemists are being realized. That machine yonder +detects the waves from a millionth of a millionth of a milligramme of +radium. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +What! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I have invented a tuned electroscope that would be destroyed by such +waves, so sensitive as to react only to waves from an inconceivable +distance, beyond thirty-five million miles. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> (<i>trying to take it in</i>) +</p> +<p> +Thirty-five million miles! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>with great tension</i>) +</p> +<p> +Three weeks ago I made this instrument, and ever since then, at regular +intervals, there have + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page20" name="page20"></a>[20]</span> + + been rhythmic flutterings of the goldleaf, regular +repetitions, as if it were knocking at the door of earth from the +eternal silences. I have watched it—the same measured fluttering—two +beats—then three—then two—then four and a pause! It is a studied +measure! It has meaning! When I first noticed it—the faint flutter of +the goldleaf—and knew that any waves from a nearer point than +thirty-five million miles would utterly destroy so delicate an +instrument—my hair stood on end. I have watched it three +weeks—alone—and you ask me why I do not sleep!... Look! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>The doctors spring up electrified, and stare at the instrument.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +There it is again! Two beats—then three—then two—then four—now it +is over! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Seymour</span> <i>continues to stare at the instrument.</i> + <span class="sc">Bellows</span> <i>subsides into a chair, looking foolish.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> (<i>to himself</i>) +</p> +<p> +Impossible!... (<i>To</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span>.) What was it you were saying? What +did you see? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I saw what you saw—signals from a distance + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page21" name="page21"></a>[21]</span> + + farther than the distance +of the nearest planet to our earth. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> (<i>shaken</i>) +</p> +<p> +But I saw nothing. At least a slight movement in anything so sensitive +might be due to many causes.... +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes! It is always the old story. Truths must be hammered into humanity! +Branded in with flame, or driven in with sword and bullet! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> (<i>starting up alarmed</i>) +</p> +<p> +Hadn't we better be going, doctor? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, no! Wait till you've talked me over. Decide whether I'm mad or not! +If I'm a menace to the community! If I must be locked up! My father and +mother are waiting to know. Don't go! Finish your work! (<i>Rushes into +room, left.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> (<i>triumphantly to</i> <span class="sc">Seymour</span>) +</p> +<p> +Well? +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Seymour</span> <i>hesitates, looks at the father and mother, then at</i> + <span class="sc">Bellows</span>, <i>and takes out his match-case.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> (<i>making a conquest of the obvious</i>) +</p> +<p> +Warner, a little of that fine cider of yours would just finish off our +chat. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page22" name="page22"></a>[22]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Nothing better! (<i>Starting out, whispers to</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span>) Where's +grandma's silver pitcher? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I'll get <i>that</i>. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>They go down-stairs.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> (<i>laughing</i>) +</p> +<p> +She never lets him go to the cellar by himself. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Not a drinker, is he? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, no! The pattern of a deacon. But she keeps her hand on. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Seymour</span> <i>lights a cigar thinkingly.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +No use to go over this case. It's clear enough. We'll have our +cider—it's worth waiting for—then go to my office and fix up the +commitment papers. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> (<i>rubbing his hand slowly over his forehead</i>) +</p> +<p> +To talk with such a patient sometimes bewilders the brain. He seemed so +clear in his utterance—so rational—— +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page23" name="page23"></a>[23]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Funny, wasn't he? I almost believed it myself for a minute. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +It might be true. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Hey? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Perhaps we are all somnambulists moving about in this dream-world we +call practical life. Behind this tough matter that takes so many shapes +and colors, what strange secrets are hidden, just beginning to reach our +dull senses—X-rays, radium emanations, wireless waves. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, they're natural enough now. Common sense has adopted them. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, we are easily satisfied. Give a mystery a name and that's enough +for the most of us. But here and there are minds that must explore +further; and if they discover something beyond the comprehension of us +who stay behind, we call them mad. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Well, none of your mind-puzzles for me. Give + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page24" name="page24"></a>[24]</span> + + me something clear cut, +like typhoid, or measles, an amputation, or new babies, something I can +fix my eyes on. You can take care of the madmen—except when they're +in my own village. I'm not going to have a boy like Philo gibbering +around ready to break out wild any time. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +It's true he may be led into frenzy, or even self-destruction, but it +will be from overwork and loneliness. I must have a talk with the +parents—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +What do you expect <i>them</i> to do? They're asking us for help. And <i>I'm</i> +willing to give it to them. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Re-enter</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> <i>He carries pitcher, + she carries tray with glasses.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="sc">Bellows</span>) +</p> +<p> +We'll see. As I say, the boy has been losing sleep, and giving his mind +no rest. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> (<i>holding tray while</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span> <i>pours cider</i>) +</p> +<p> +Just what I say, doctor. He's studied himself sick. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +You must get him out of here, Mrs. Warner. (<i>Sipping cider.</i>) Excellent, +indeed! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page25" name="page25"></a>[25]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I'm doing my best. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="sc">Bellows</span>, <i>who has drained his glass</i>) +</p> +<p> +You're at home, doctor. Just help yourself. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He does.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +What is his age? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Twenty. He went early to college. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> (<i>musingly</i>) +</p> +<p> +The usual age. Twenty. (<i>Sighs.</i>) The age of visions and enchantments. +"The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +What are you saying, doctor? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Just thinking. It's a healthy family, isn't it? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +I should say! Why, Will and Johnny and Alice—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Best sort. The thoroughbreds of the town. Temperate, thriving, regular +at church. Warner here was once county supervisor. (<i>Clapping him on +shoulder.</i>) Never had a better one. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page26" name="page26"></a>[26]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span>) +</p> +<p> +And your parents? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Father was a sound, practical man. Stood flat-footed, I may say. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +And your mother? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Law me, Hiram Warner thinks there was never anybody in the world like +his mother. And there never <i>was</i>! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +That's good to build on. It is clear that your boy is ill, and the +burden of his knowledge, whether truth or delusion, is far too great for +him to bear. If you could interest him for even a brief time in ordinary +life—(<i>smiling</i>) miracles that are too common to be disturbing—throw +him with young people—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +You don't mean you won't sign the commitment papers! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Just that. I shall not sign them. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> (<i>gratefully</i>) +</p> +<p> +Oh, doctor! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page27" name="page27"></a>[27]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +After what you saw here with your own eyes? He's completely gone off! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +The boy may be right. Under this tiny consciousness of ours lie vast +fields of subconscious intelligence as yet unexplored. Beyond our earth +are still greater mysteries, unimaginable, unthinkable. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> (<i>in disgust</i>) +</p> +<p> +And I counted on your common sense! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Common sense is itself too frail and uncertain a thing to be a criterion +of sanity. The common sense of yesterday is to-day's folly, and our +present common sense will be the madness of to-morrow. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Well, I'll be—I'll wait for you down-stairs, doctor. (<i>Exit.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +The lad ought not to be in there alone. (<i>Goes to door.</i>) Philo, my boy! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>comes out. He is extremely pale, his black hair pushed + from his forehead, and his eyes burning, but his manner is calm.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Well, am I a free man? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page28" name="page28"></a>[28]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +You are free, Philo. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>perfunctorily</i>) +</p> +<p> +Thank you, doctor. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +But you must have rest from this work. These subjects are too +overwhelming for a sane brain to carry without harm. This attic is +gloomy and the atmosphere unhealthy. You must have a complete change. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I see. That is your answer to my discovery. (<i>Turns suddenly to</i> +<span class="sc">Warner</span>.) And what do you think of it, father? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +I don't seem to get hold of it, somehow, Philo. (<i>Crosses to machine and +stares at it.</i>) What's the good, anyhow? They're too far away. +'Twouldn't help business. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>gives a queer laugh.</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span> <i>opens door.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +I'll see you down-stairs, doctor. (<i>Exit.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>turning to</i> <span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span>) +</p> +<p> +And you, mother? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page29" name="page29"></a>[29]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> (<i>bustling up and gathering tray and glasses</i>) +</p> +<p> +I've got to set my bread. (<i>Crosses to machine and stares at it, holding +tray.</i>) What'll we come to if folks in the stars begin pesterin'? We've +got enough to 'tend to right here. (<i>Goes out muttering.</i>) Got to set my +bread. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Seymour</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>look at each other and smile.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Won't you come down, Philo? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +No. It's livelier for me up here. More to think about. But don't worry +about me, doctor. I know this is the end. If I can't convince you, then +all the world must think it hallucination. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +I'm not unconvinced. I simply don't know. And I'm deeply interested. But +you can't stand it, Philo. Get out of this. Be young. This is for older +heads. You'll have plenty of time. Get out—do anything. Fall in +love—fall in love—that will give you mysteries enough for a while. +Yes, I mean it—and don't forget, my dear boy, that you've interested +me. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Shakes hands with</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>and goes down.</i> + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page30" name="page30"></a>[30]</span> + + <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>listens until he has reached the foot of the stairs.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +The heavens open—the suns speak—and he is—interested! (<i>Closes +door.</i>) Alone!... Fall in love! Light the candle and put out the +stars!... (<i>Returns to his instrument.</i>) ... It is still. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Steps are heard on the stairs, then a knock at the door. + He crosses softly to door and shoots the bolt.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Voice</i> (<i>without</i>) +</p> +<p> +It's Reba, Philo! Won't you let me in? +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He is silent, and steps retreat.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>crossing to centre</i>) +</p> +<p> +Reba! That folly's done with, thank God!... (<i>Begins walking.</i>) +Seymour.... I didn't know how much I was hoping from him.... It is hard, +hard to go on alone. But I <i>must</i>! I can't turn back from that call. +When a child cries we turn, and listen, and help. And this—<i>this</i> is +the voice of a world! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>A knock is heard at door.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Voice of</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span> +</p> +<p> +Philo! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Buzz, buzz, old bee! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page31" name="page31"></a>[31]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Voice</i> +</p> +<p> +Come down, son! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Please leave me alone, father. I can't bear anything more to-night. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>A pause, and</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span> <i>goes down.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>coming to table</i>) +</p> +<p> +I will work—work—work! (<i>Busies his hands.</i>) Not a voice to help +me—not a smile of hope—not a touch of sympathy. (<i>Sits still and +despairing.</i>) ... Perhaps the time is not ripe for larger knowledge. +Nature and the Divinity that guides her must protect their new evolving +creatures. A too sudden revelation and they might perish from sheer +wonder.... Yes, truth must come softened, as a dream, to the man child's +brain. Its naked light would sere and blind him forever.... But to me it +has been given to see—to hear—and keep sane in the light. Oh, from +what planet is the call? From what one of the hundred million spheres? +How many centuries has it been sent outward to the deaf, the dumb, and +the blind? And what is the word? Is it Hail? Help? Hope?... Or is it an +answer? An answer to some signal of mine? How shall I know?... How shall +I know? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page32" name="page32"></a>[32]</span> +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>There is a noise outside the window.</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>does not look + up.</i> <span class="sc">Reba</span> <i>appears and leaps lightly through the windows. + Advances centre. Her dress is of clinging black, relieved by a floating + scarf of cloudy white. She has a mass of blonde hair, and all the charms + properly belonging to her age, which is eighteen.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Philo! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>turning</i>) +</p> +<p> +Reba! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Don't be angry. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +How did you get here? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +The window. Don't you remember—you showed me how to climb up once—with +a ladder—the tree—and the shed roof? Oh, the things you've forgotten, +Philo! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He goes to door and unbolts it.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +You must go down, Reba. (<i>She does not move.</i>) What will mother say? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>laughing</i>) +</p> +<p> +She held the ladder for me. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page33" name="page33"></a>[33]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Mother? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +You've frightened her so. You mustn't bolt the door again. She's afraid +you'll do something dreadful. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +You were not afraid to come. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +I like to take risks. Life's dull in this village. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +How you've changed, Reba! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +It's taken you long enough to find it out. I've been back a month. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +You'd better go down. I'm very busy, and I've had a long interruption +this evening. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +I'm going to interrupt some more. Dr. Seymour says it's good for you. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>angrily</i>) +</p> +<p> +Dr. Seymour knows you've come? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes. He said you might like the surprise. Don't you like it, Philo? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page34" name="page34"></a>[34]</span> +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Comes near him.</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>turns away and busies himself about + the table and shelves as if he meant to ignore her utterly.</i> + <span class="sc">Reba</span> <i>watches him, then goes to window and takes a large apple + from the ledge. Comes back.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +I brought you an apple—such a love of an apple. There's a whole summer +of sunsets in it. I climbed the tree myself. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>not looking</i>) +</p> +<p> +Thank you; I don't eat. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Don't eat! Well, there it is! (<i>Throws it on the table. He jumps to +protect his instrument.</i>) You can <i>lick</i> it when you're hungry! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He sits down and begins to work. She walks to other side of table + and picks up a book.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh! Our old "Swiss Family Robinson"! The very one we read together! With +our names in it! You've kept it all the time! (<i>Hugging it.</i>) Dear old +book! (<i>Turns the leaves.</i>) Why—the leaves are half gone! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +They're handy for cleaning my wires. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page35" name="page35"></a>[35]</span> +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>She throws the book down, and stands uncertain.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Going, Reba? Good night! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +No, I'm not going. This is my last chance. You'll bar the window +to-morrow. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>determinedly</i>) +</p> +<p> +Yes, I will. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He bends closely over his work. She lies across the table opposite, + watching his movements intently. He fumbles for a tool.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +The little one? Here it is! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Hands him a small wire tool. He stares at her face so near his own, + then takes the instrument and works confusedly. Jumps up and tries to + reach a jar on one of the shelves.</i> <span class="sc">Reba</span> <i>leaps onto a chair, + takes the jar and hands it down. He stares, and takes jar.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>as he returns to table</i>) +</p> +<p> +Ugh! These jars are so dirty, Philo. May I wash them for you? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Heavens, no! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, <i>that</i> makes you sit up! (<i>Hums a little, + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page36" name="page36"></a>[36]</span> + + leaps down and begins to +move the things on the table.</i>) I'll make the table tidy for you, Philo. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>grabbing her hands</i>) +</p> +<p> +Stop! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>sings, swinging his hands across the table</i>) +</p> +<p> +"All around the mulberry bush——" +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Let go! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Why, you're holding <i>me</i>! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He drops her hands and goes to window, as if intending flight. + She becomes subtle.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Dr. Seymour says you've done something wonderful, Philo. Won't you show +me your machine? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +No. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +But I <i>care</i>! I care more than anybody! I <i>want</i> you to be great. I +could sit by you all my life just watching you being great. +(<span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>smiles. She twirls over to him.</i>) And I don't <i>like</i> to +be still, either. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +But suppose people began to laugh at you as they do at me? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page37" name="page37"></a>[37]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +I wouldn't care. Show me the machine, Philo. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Takes his arm and they move back to table.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +There it is. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>hovering over it</i>) +</p> +<p> +This is it. (<i>Throwing her head back.</i>) Tell me about it. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Reba—your throat is—so white. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>bending suddenly over machine</i>) +</p> +<p> +There's something moving. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +So white. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Two—one—two, three—— +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>goes to door and flings it open.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Reba, go down! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>She crosses to door, shuts it, and stands with her back against it.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Not till we've had a talk, Philo. I've a right to it after what you said +two years ago—when I went away to school. Have you forgotten it? Shall +I tell you what you said? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page38" name="page38"></a>[38]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +No! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +You said you loved me, Philo. And I believed it for two years. When I +came back you were silent. I've tried to make you speak—I've got in +your way—I've done everything nice girls don't do—because—I love you +as much as you love <i>that</i>! (<i>Waves her hand toward the machine.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Don't say it. It can't be true. No woman could love so much as that. +(<i>Goes back to table.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>following him</i>) +</p> +<p> +I don't ask you to love me. But let me come here and sit by you +sometimes. I could be happy then—though I don't <i>like</i> to be still. +I was going to a dance to-night. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +A dance! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +But I knew you were up here alone—and I had heard—oh, my dear!—that +they were going to send you away. I couldn't bear it. I <i>had</i> to come. +Oh, Philo, they shall not send you away! Dr. Seymour says all you need +is a new interest. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +To dance, perhaps! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page39" name="page39"></a>[39]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Well—why not? It is fun. We were to be in fancy dress, and I was going +as Night. See—(<i>waving her scarf</i>) this is my cloud—and my hair is the +moon! I washed it to-day so it would be fluffy. Just see how soft it is! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>touching her hair</i>) +</p> +<p> +How fine! Will you give me a lock, Reba? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, yes! Where are your scissors? Here! (<i>Takes scissors from table.</i>) +You cut it, Philo. (<i>He takes scissors.</i>) Anywhere. It's curly at the +neck and temples. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>cutting lock</i>) +</p> +<p> +I don't want a curl. (<i>Puts hair carefully in table drawer.</i>) I'm making +a new machine and I need long hairs for some of the parts. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>raging</i>) +</p> +<p> +You sha'n't have it! You sha'n't! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Tries to open drawer. They struggle. She gets her arms about his + neck.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>pushing her off</i>) +</p> +<p> +Your throat—— +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Kisses it. She clings to him, and he sits down, holding her on his + knee.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page40" name="page40"></a>[40]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +I knew! I knew! Oh, Philo, you <i>haven't</i> forgotten! You +remember—everything! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Everything! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +That day we went fishing and—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>laughing</i>) +</p> +<p> +Forgot the tackle! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +And that last evening in the orchard, when you said—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I love you! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, you look just as you did then—so happy! I nearly died when I came +home and saw the change in your face. It seemed to shut me out, like a +great iron door. Philo.... You won't forget again? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Never! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +And I may come every day? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Every day! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +I'll help you, Philo. I'll give you all my hair. + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page41" name="page41"></a>[41]</span> + + (<i>Lays her head on his +shoulder.</i>) And I'll let you work and not think of me at all. You can +live with your stars—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>kissing her</i>) +</p> +<p> +There are no stars! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>laughing</i>) +</p> +<p> +I'll never be jealous again! (<i>Gets up.</i>) Come! Let's see what the dinky +thing is doing! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Goes to table.</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>watches her, slowly repeating + her name.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +What a little thing it is! And—there <i>is</i> something fluttering! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>crosses, still seeing nothing but the girl.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +See—I'm trying to count—two—three—— +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He looks down, and becomes transfixed.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, my God! They've changed the signal!... Look, Reba! Count the beats! +Count for me! Count! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>confused</i>) +</p> +<p> +Two—three—no, four—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Can't you <i>count</i>? Get away! (<i>Pushes her + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page42" name="page42"></a>[42]</span> + + aside.</i>) Two—three—four—three— +They have <i>changed</i> it! Oh, I must answer! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Philo—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Go down! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>clinging to him</i>) +</p> +<p> +I won't—I won't—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>putting her in a chair</i>) +</p> +<p> +Sit there, then. And for God's sake be still! (<i>Returns to machine and +counts under his breath.</i>) It is true—it is true—and I am not ready! I +am dumb, like all the world! I cannot let them know! (<i>Walks the floor, +muttering</i>) But I will—I must. (<i>Crosses to window.</i>) I must do +it!—think of nothing else—nothing! I shall not sleep till it is +done!... But they will call me mad—lock me up before I have finished, +God, before I have finished! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Philo, listen! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +It's the world's way ... to beat the spirit down ... the eager spirit, +superbly sane, daring to pierce the barriers between heaven and earth! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +I'll not sit here! (<i>She sits nevertheless.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page43" name="page43"></a>[43]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, Truth-driven martyrs, seers of visions, prophets of the old world +and the new, born out of your time to suffer by fire, by sword, and +prison bars! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> (<i>cooingly</i>) +</p> +<p> +Dear Philo! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I too shall join you! Forerunners of the waking spirit of the world! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Reba</span> <i>gets before him as he walks. Completely absorbed, + he puts her aside, absently but gently, as if she were a kitten he + did not wish to hurt.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I must finish it—I must—before they beat me down! (<i>Pauses by +machine.</i>) There is no one but me to do it. If I fail they may have +to wait another million years—out there—working, waiting. (<i>Resumes +walk.</i>) I shall not fail. I have gone too far. God will take my part +now. Be it His own eternal sign, I will answer it! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +I'll make you see me! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Runs to table, leaps upon it and begins a dance among the wires + and bottles. He is stunned + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page44" name="page44"></a>[44]</span> + + for a moment, then rushes to her, seizes + her waist with both hands, lifts her up, and flings her to a chair.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Sit there, you dragon-fly! Or I'll crush you! (<i>Goes to window, as if +for breath and air. Recovers poise.</i>) Let them think me mad. Up here I +shall work it out. And I shall not be alone. Earth will not hear me, but +the heavens will listen. (<i>Holds his hands toward the stars.</i>) My only +friends! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Reba</i> +</p> +<p> +Crush me! (<i>She steals up to the table, seizes a large book, and brings +it down with utter destruction upon his machine.</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>turns +and sees. They face each other. She shrinks, terrified.</i>) Don't, Philo! +(<i>Kneels, throwing back her head, showing the long line of her throat.</i>) +Forgive me! It was driving you mad! I wanted to save you! Don't look +like that! Forgive me, Philo! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Your throat—is—so white! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Seizes and chokes her. As he seizes her she gives a cry of terror.</i> + <span class="sc">Warner</span>, <span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span>, <span class="sc">Seymour</span>, <i>and</i> + <span class="sc">Bellows</span> <i>rush up the stairs and enter.</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span> <i>takes + his hands from the + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page45" name="page45"></a>[45]</span> + + girl's throat and stands apart. She lies + motionless.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> (<i>roaring</i>) +</p> +<p> +You've managed, Mary Ann! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> (<i>excitedly</i>) +</p> +<p> +Who's right, now, Seymour? +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Seymour</span> <i>bends over</i> <span class="sc">Reba</span>, <i>listening for her heart-beat.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> (<i>choking</i>) +</p> +<p> +A hanging in the family! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +Is she—dead? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +No. It is chiefly fear. (<i>Works over her body.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>to himself</i>) +</p> +<p> +Poor little bird! Poor little bird! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> (<i>taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and offering them +to</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span>) +</p> +<p> +Better clap these on him. We're none of us safe. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Handcuffs, doctor? I'll make no trouble. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Holds out his hands and</i> <span class="sc">Bellows</span> <i>fastens handcuffs.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +It's for your own good, Philo. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page46" name="page46"></a>[46]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> +</p> +<p> +Our mistake—our mistake! Poor boy! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Poor <i>girl</i>, I should say! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Seymour</i> (<i>lifting</i> <span class="sc">Reba</span>) +</p> +<p> +I'll take her down-stairs. (<i>Carries her to door.</i>) I shall need you, +Mrs. Warner. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Mrs. W.</span> <i>follows, weeping and looking back at</i> <span class="sc">Philo</span>.) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I'm all right, mother. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mrs. W.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>All right.</i> Oh, God help him! (<i>Exit.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +Clean mad! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> (<i>crosses, and looks down on the wreck of his machine</i>) +</p> +<p> +Silent ... but I have heard! The divine whisper has reached me! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> +</p> +<p> +That's still on his mind, you see. Better leave him up here till +morning. Seymour and I will fix up the papers and take him off +to-morrow. I'm sorry, Philo, but you know it's for the best. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +I'll make no trouble. Don't worry, doctor. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page47" name="page47"></a>[47]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bellows</i> (<i>to himself, going</i>) +</p> +<p> +Lord, he's cool! (<i>Advising</i> <span class="sc">Warner</span>, <i>in cautiously lowered +tone.</i>) That's the way with the worst of them. (<i>Exit.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> +</p> +<p> +Want me to stay with you, Philo? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +No, father. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Warner</i> (<i>relieved</i>) +</p> +<p> +Good night, son. (<i>At door.</i>) Mother'll send up some blankets. (<i>Exit.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Philo</i> +</p> +<p> +Blankets!... +</p> + +<p class="center"> +(CURTAIN) +</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page48" name="page48"></a>[48]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page49" name="page49"></a>[49]</span> +</p> + +<a name="h2H_4_0005" id="h2H_4_0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + THE JOURNEY +</h2> +<h3> + BY +<br /> +<span class="sc">Olive Tilford Dargan</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page50" name="page50"></a>[50]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + CHARACTERS +</h2> + +<p> <span class="sc">Princess Wong Fe</span>, <i>bride of Yu Tai Shun</i></p> +<p> <span class="sc">So Siu</span>, <i>her friend</i></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Prince Ching</span></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Makuro</span>, <i>of Japan</i></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Yu Tai Shun</span>, <i>of all nations</i></p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page51" name="page51"></a>[51]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + THE JOURNEY +</h2> +<p class="scene"> +<span class="sc">Scene</span>: <i>Room in a farmhouse above Siangtan, where the Siang + flows among hills. The rear of room has wide exit to a porch, + beyond which show the tops of pear and peach trees in full bloom. + Steps lead down to the orchard, and the orchard slopes to the river.</i> +</p> +<p class="stage"> + <span class="sc">Wong Fe</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">So Siu</span> <i>present.</i> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +My lily So Siu, has not the dishonorable color left my wretched cheeks? +Is not my face like the dough before it goes into the oven? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, my golden Fe, pearls in the dawn are no fairer! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +But these cow-girl's tatters! Would not my gown of meadow-green mist +with the peach-gold underrobe make me less haggard? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +When your lord, Yu Tai Shun, returns from the hills he will say—— +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page52" name="page52"></a>[52]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, what will he say? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +That the fairies have been your friends. They wove for you this robe of +rose-leaves, and threw over you a gray cloud from the Witch's Mountain. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Wong Fe</span> <i>trips gaily, then with sudden surrender begins to weep.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +Have no shame, beloved of miserable So Siu. Water must follow the fire. +I am only a maid, but I know that when the honeymoon is without tears +two pigs have married. Ah, wet my sleeve, my dear one, and not thine +that will lie on the neck of the golden lord, Yu Tai Shun. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +When I awoke this morning the sunlight was on my pillow, but Yu Tai Shun +was gone. All day I have not seen his face. And now the last swallow has +left the sky. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +Why did Prince Ching and the young Japanese choose this day to be guests +of Yu Tai Shun? It is sad for the wife when the friends of her lord find +her alone. Yu Tai Shun will beat his doorstep for not calling him. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page53" name="page53"></a>[53]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +He will! Prince Ching is almost his father. May his age climb as the +hills, always nearer the sky! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +Indeed, you would be sitting alone in a cloud of sighs, not fast wedded +to the bringer of dawn, Yu Tai Shun, if Prince Ching had not won his way +to your brothers, the mighty princes, Wong Li and Wong Sen. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +I kiss his honorable dust! He shall live with my ancestors! And Makuro, +the young Japanese, I shall love him too, for he is most dear to Yu Tai +Shun. Do they still sit in the orchard? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +They have not moved, nor paused in their talking. Do you not hear? Like +bees that cannot choose their flower. It may be that they have brought +news to Yu Tai Shun, and his gloom will pass. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +No, I feel it was their coming, like a far cloud, that shadowed him. Oh, +my So Siu, it will be darker now! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +I have sent tea and cakes to the orchard. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page54" name="page54"></a>[54]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +It shall not be dark. Do not the fairies of the sun weave a white world +out of the threads of midnight? I will pray to them. We must be merry, +my lily So Siu. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +And why not? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +I shall dance to-night before Yu Tai Shun. (<i>Tripping.</i>) Is it not good +to have feet? My honorable and glorious mamma weeps when I dance, but it +is because she was born too soon and they crippled her beloved feet. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +How glad I am that the old world is gone when only the painted +flower-girls could do the happy things! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +And it was my own lord, Yu Tai Shun, who made the earth new again! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>She listens, suddenly still.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +He is here! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +My darling So Siu.... +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>So Siu</i> +</p> +<p> +I go! (<i>Darts from room, right.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page55" name="page55"></a>[55]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +I would be dancing, but I cannot move. There are anchors of fear on my +toes. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Yu Tai Shun</span>, <i>left. He is dressed in gray flannels, of American pattern.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> (<i>stopping before</i> <span class="sc">Wong Fe</span>) +</p> +<p> +I left a witch-cloud on the hills, and it has dropped down before me. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>She courtesies to the floor. He snatches her up.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +No! I want my Western bride to-night. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +But this is a Chinese orchard, and it is springtime. Let me worship a +little. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Never, my mountain bird! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Draws her to the steps, where they sit.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +You are weary, beloved? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Not now. I have my rest. To-morrow you shall go with me. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Up the mountain? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page56" name="page56"></a>[56]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +I will show you where I dropped the storm in my heart. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> (<i>timidly</i>) +</p> +<p> +Will it come again, Yu Tai Shun? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Nothing can wake it again. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Then indeed I am your bride! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Heart of my body art thou, Wong Fe! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Holds her to his breast a moment, looking distantly out. Suddenly + sees his friends approaching.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +We have guests? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> (<i>quickly springing up</i>) +</p> +<p> +Forgive me! Your friends are here. Prince Ching, and Makuro, from Japan. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Makuro? +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He throws up his right hand. In a moment</i> <span class="sc">Prince Ching</span> <i>and</i> + Makuro <i>are seen advancing from the orchard</i>.) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +They have had my welcome. I leave you. (<i>Crosses to right, +reluctantly.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page57" name="page57"></a>[57]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Return to us soon, my gold of the morning. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>She goes out</i>. <span class="sc">Ching</span> <i>and the Japanese enter.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +We have waited, Yu Tai Shun. We knew that the setting sun would turn a +bridegroom home. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Master! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +My friend! What brings you to China? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> (<i>with steady gaze</i>) +</p> +<p> +You know. I have come for you. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> (<i>stubbornly, as if chidden</i>) +</p> +<p> +My work is done. China is free. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +Her slavery is only beginning. You may hide your body but you cannot +bury your mind under peach-blossoms. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +The republic is established. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +But not a democracy. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +My work is done. Twenty years have I given to the cause of the people. +Now until I die I will toil and sing in the fields of my fathers. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page58" name="page58"></a>[58]</span> +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>They have gradually come to centre of room, which servants have + lighted</i>. <span class="sc">Wong Fe</span> <i>silently returns, but at a sign from</i> + <span class="sc">Ching</span> <i>she retreats and remains by wall, right, participating + in the scene that follows, though</i> <span class="sc">Yu Tai Shun</span> <i>and</i> + <span class="sc">Makuro</span> <i>are unaware of her presence.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Do you remember when I stood here once before, Yu Tai Shun? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Can you ask me that, Makuro? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Why not, when you seem to have forgotten all that passed between us? I +went from that meeting with an imperishable fire in my heart. I return, +and the light that kindled mine is dark. We stood here, and the words +you spoke were brighter than the lamps of Siangtan that we looked down +upon. Shall I repeat them, Yu Tai Shun? +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Shun is silent.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +I would hear them, Makuro. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +The master said: "Forty centuries has China been content to plough, to +sow, to reap, and with + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page59" name="page59"></a>[59]</span> + + her harvest support one-quarter of the human lives +on our planet. Drudgery has been her lot, frugality her virtue. Only so +had she lease of breath. Now she is to unlock her mines, build ships, +and roads of commerce, and with the magic of machinery set her people +free. If that magic is owned by a few, there will be no freedom, but +a slavery whose agony no man can tell. Every owner will be a monarch +greater than the Son of Heaven to whom we bowed. We cannot shut them out +by war. We can do it solely by making China a true democracy where the +people themselves own the magic tools and the great ways to the markets. +To do this is the work of all who love Freedom, and I know no other +goddess." Were these your words, Yu Tai Shun? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes ... my words. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +That was five years ago. From all parts of the earth come powers +fulfilling your fear. Leagued with our own purblind princes and dwellers +in the dusk, they hover over China, waiting for war and bribery to +dismember her. And you say your work is done. Yu Tai Shun, where have +you buried my master? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page60" name="page60"></a>[60]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +In the heart of the Princess Wong Fe. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> (<i>rallying</i>) +</p> +<p> +May we not be too stern in our judgment of the lords of steam and iron? +Lei Kung Sang and the British minister of the So-nan mineral beds have +built houses for the people. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +And have taken their land. Men who plucked their own fruit, and took +food from their own gardens, now cannot eat until they have torn new +treasure out of the earth for the kind Briton and the good Lei Kung +Sang. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Their days of work were always long and weary. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +But they toiled as free men in the sun, and as free men sang from the +river-boats when the moon rose. In America, where there is still much +land and few people, there are places where children go down into the +mines and never see the sun except on the day they call "holy." How will +it be with China's four hundred millions, when there are not even waste +places where those who would flee may gather? For even her great +untilled spaces are being covered by the foreign hand. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page61" name="page61"></a>[61]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Slavery will be born again with depths the ancients never knew. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +But the spirit of brotherhood is growing. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Power has no brothers! It was you who taught me that, Yu Tai Shun. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Do you forget that we built our republic with the aid of these same +princes of power? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +We forget nothing. They let us beat down the throne because they could +not use it—a rigid tradition—but the republic—<i>they</i> are the +republic! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Can we not trust a little? In our greatest need, alien hands have +reached out to help us. And we have true hearts among our Chinese +lords. Not all have joined with the invader to herd the people into +slave-yards. Pei Chen-Ping and Sa Yi are most liberal. You, Prince +Ching, and those you gather to you, have hearts like the rising sun. And +the noble princes of the house of Wong—have they not given me my bride? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page62" name="page62"></a>[62]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +Ay, when your sighs had blown around the world for seven years, they +yielded her. You were a power to be checked, and they set a woman in +your path. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +No! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +It was a Japanese from the Fushun collieries, a Russian prince of the +Northern railways, a French buyer of Yunnan copper, a British ship-baron +of Hongkong, and the Chinese owners of the unworked gold veins of +Szechuan, who went to the brothers of Wong Fe and said: "Give Yu Tai +Shun his bride." +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +It was you who spoke for me! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +You had no father, and in my heart you were my son. I spoke for you +because I believed in you. I did not think that any bribe could lure you +from us. Yours was a soul that we thought would be a torch to every +nation of earth. And you choose to go out like a candle in the breath of +a woman. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Yu Tai Shun</span> <i>is bowed and silent.</i> <span class="sc">Makuro</span> <i>touches + his sleeve.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page63" name="page63"></a>[63]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Come with us, master. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +In half an hour the boat will stop at the orchard pier for Makuro. He +starts for Japan. It is there you are needed. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +I come from our friends with their summons. Japan's oligarchy of +traders, with every means known to power—school, religion, racial pride +and hate—is fostering the spirit of war. All the seeds of the jungle +are being deliberately sown once more in men's hearts. They are +preparing Japan to hold the largest share of an industrially broken +China and weld her millions into one instrument of hate against the +West. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +A pigmy's dream! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +A dream that will come true if our giants continue to sleep. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +It is the menace of America that Japan holds before her people till +their hearts roll with fear, their brains grow sick with rage. America, +who has insulted us with exclusion—who has snatched + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page64" name="page64"></a>[64]</span> + + an island chain +from our Eastern waters, and shot, starved, imprisoned thousands +ignorant enough and brave enough to resist her. <i>That</i> is the America my +people are taught to believe in. But you know a different America, where +people love honor and hate war—whose religion is love thy neighbor as +thyself. Come, teach them of that America! You are known in a million +homes of Japan. You have taught us to love you, and where we love, we +listen. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> (<i>with great effort</i>) +</p> +<p> +I cannot go. If I part from Wong Fe the blood will leave my veins and +flow back to her. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Then take her with you. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +You know what this journey means. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, you must go free. With such a weight you would be useless. I will +take Wong Fe to her brothers. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +I shall hold her forever! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +You think joy can last so long? (<i>To</i> <span class="sc">Makuro</span>, <i>shrugging.</i>) A +boy yet! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page65" name="page65"></a>[65]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +In Japan you have my young scholar, Onoto. All my knowledge I have given +him. In his heart is my purpose, his eyes hold my vision. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Onoto! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +His years are younger, his flame will leap higher. I am only one who +fails you. In every nation our numbers are growing. Do not fear for +humanity. Our brothers are everywhere. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +You say Onoto? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +He has the gift of the shining word—the word that draws the heart as a +full moon at sea draws the eye. I can turn my back on the world and rob +it of nothing, for I have given it Onoto. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +How long have you been chirping here like a cricket under a leaf, with +no news from the roadside? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +It is three weeks to-day since I brought Wong Fe to the door of my +fathers. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +Three weeks! On the very day of your joy Onoto was thrown into prison. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page66" name="page66"></a>[66]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +They would not dare! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +They did dare. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +In prison—Onoto! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +No, he is not now in prison. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Free? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +The enmity of the powers was bitter. Everywhere he was sowing the seed +of peace. In many a house the ancestral sword was broken at his bidding. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +But he is free? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> +</p> +<p> +Yesterday (<i>glances out at the stars</i>), at this hour, he was shot. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> (<i>slowly comprehending</i>) +</p> +<p> +Then I have been twenty-four hours dead. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>He steps uncertainly out to the little porch. They gaze at the floor, + respecting his grief</i>. <span class="sc">Wong Fe</span> <i>makes a motion to follow him.</i> + <span class="sc">Ching</span> <i>stops her with a gesture, and she shrinks back.</i> <span class="sc">Yu + Tai Shun</span> <i>re-enters.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page67" name="page67"></a>[67]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Your mercy, friends. (<i>Crosses left, to exit.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +You will go with us now? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> (<i>turns and hurls the word</i>) +</p> +<p> +No! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>An instant of silence follows his exit, then</i> <span class="sc">Wong Fe</span> <i>comes + forward.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Peace to your hearts, honorable friends of Yu Tai Shun! He will depart +with you. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +Not yet. We must wait. Invisible chains cannot be broken. But they will +disunite of themselves. Then he will come. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +I will send him with you to-night. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>You</i> send him? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Do you think I will divide his life so that the two halves can bear no +fruit? That I will wait until he hates me for that ruin? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> (<i>with laughter</i>) +</p> +<p> +Hates you, oh princess! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page68" name="page68"></a>[68]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Wait till I must glean in his heart behind a spent passion?—like a poor +widow in the track of a grain-cart? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +The coral of your lips will defeat their command, Wong Fe. Near you he +is a dry fagot seized by a flame. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +I tell you he will go! Wait in the orchard until you hear the first +whistle of the boat. Then come for him. He will be ready. Go, honorable +friends! He is returning. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +It is useless. Your words may bite like winter, but his eyes will see +only the Spring morning. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Go, I beg you, go! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>They pass out down the steps of porch.</i> <span class="sc">Wong Fe</span> <i>hurries to a + small table, opens a lacquered box and takes from it a stiletto, which + she hides in the folds of her sleeve. She is dancing as</i> <span class="sc">Yu Tai + Shun</span> <i>enters, and sings as she dances.</i>) +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> The thousand odors of Spring </p> +<p class="i2"> Are the thousand arms of love. </p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page69" name="page69"></a>[69]</span> +</p> +<p class="i2"> They find thee in the valleys, </p> +<p class="i2"> On the crest of the hills they reach thee; </p> +<p class="i2"> Till Spring bear no fragrance </p> +<p class="i2"> Thou canst not escape them, </p> +<p class="i2"> The thousand arms of love! </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> The orchard pool is a pillow, </p> +<p class="i2"> A pillow for the twin lotus, </p> +<p class="i2"> And the wings of the flying geese </p> +<p class="i2"> Are warm in the air of heaven; </p> +<p class="i2"> They drop to the shadowy lake-sedge, </p> +<p class="i2"> For sweet looks the earth from the roads of the sky, </p> +<p class="i2"> And in heaven are no cool grasses. </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Ever listening </p> +<p class="i2"> Are the leaves of the slim dryanda, </p> +<p class="i2"> Whose heart is the harp of the Spring-wind. </p> +<p class="i2"> A dryanda-tree is my lover, </p> +<p class="i2"> And my thoughts are the leaves that listen. </p> +<p class="i2"> Autumn, Autumn, touch not my leaf-thoughts! </p> +<p class="i2"> Cast them not down when the pool is grey, </p> +<p class="i2"> And the teal no more sail two and two </p> +<p class="i2"> With their breasts above one shadow. </p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Come to me, Wong Fe! I feel that you have blown through my door like a +rose petal, and will + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page70" name="page70"></a>[70]</span> + + drift away again, leaving me not a footprint to kiss. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Neither in life nor in death shall I leave you, my lord. Though I seem +to die, and these graces that please you fall to earth like +willow-blossoms, it is not I that will lie on the sand. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Why do you speak of death, Wong Fe? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +Because I am so happy. The sages say that we can have no fairer fortune +than to die in our happiest moment. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Do not speak of death. The word blisters the air, though your lips be as +two drops of June rain. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +But how sweet to die when I am fairest in your eyes! Every year, at this +time, you would walk down the peach-flower lanes and recall the glow of +my cheek. Oh, Heaven, let me not be a faded wife in the blooming time of +the year! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Thy soul, Wong Fe, is the flower of my worship. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +And death would give my soul wholly to you. + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page71" name="page71"></a>[71]</span> + + I should be near you always. +Then morning would not call you to the peaks, leaving me behind in the +tear-dew. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +To-morrow we shall go together. Your shadow will be with mine on the +rocks, and under the fir-trees we shall forget the valley. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +And the world? Oh, my lord, there are distances farther than the peaks +of Siang, and they will call you from me. It cannot be that you who have +known all lands will be content with one. I would see the strange people +you have made your brothers, would listen to their dreams, and read the +future with their hearts. There are dangers you would not let my body +share—I do not ask that—but my soul, you could forbid it nothing. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +What have you heard? What has Makuro said to you? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +What should he say but that the cakes were good, and the tea had the +flavor of the fields of Hunan? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +We must join our friends. Where do they wait? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page72" name="page72"></a>[72]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +They listen for the boat that will stop at the foot of the orchard. Why +do they go? Old friends should not be so brief in greeting. Could they +not stay one night? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +No—no. (<i>Sits down</i>.) They must go. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> (<i>laying her hand on his shoulder</i>) +</p> +<p> +What voice dost thou hear, and wilt not answer? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Nothing—nothing. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +You will not long be deaf between the beating of our two hearts. You +will hear and go. That is why I long for the death-fairy to come in my +hour of happiness. You have joined with strong men to lift a heavy yoke +from the world. My smiles cannot feed your spirit. Go with your friends. +Let the whistle of the boat part us. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +The cassia-tree may draw itself from earth, and walk on feet of roots +through the world, but I cannot divide my days from yours, for you are +myself, Wong Fe. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> (<i>resigned</i>) +</p> +<p> +I believe you, my lord. We shall not part. + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page73" name="page73"></a>[73]</span> + + But what joy it would be to +die now in your presence, while the love-cup is full! Oh, I could not +meet death alone! You know the poor ghost in the song who died in the +absence of her lover? She is always pleading to be allowed to die again +when his arms may be around her. So would my ghost go wailing if I lost +your kiss in death. (<i>Touches his cheek</i>.) Is that a tear, Yu Tai Shun? +I torture you because I am so happy! You shall laugh, my prince! I know +a new game we shall play. Little So Siu taught it to me to-day. She says +it is an American game. We call it "Guess behind you!" You turn your +back—like that—and you must tell me what I am doing. When you miss +three times, then I shall tell you what you must pay. Now—what is it +I do? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +You throw me a kiss. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +So I do! And now, my soul's light? +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Takes stiletto from her sleeve. The whistle of the boat is heard. + He turns. She hides stiletto.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> +</p> +<p> +Our friends are going. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page74" name="page74"></a>[74]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Wong Fe</i> +</p> +<p> +But wait—there is time. You must guess once more! Oh, you are slow as +ten turns of a river! There! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Turns his head with her hands, then snatches the stiletto, stabs + herself and falls. He turns, kneels dazedly, and takes her in his arms + as she dies.</i> <span class="sc">Ching</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Makuro</span> <i>enter.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Ching</i> +</p> +<p> +The boat— (<i>Stops in consternation.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Makuro</i> (<i>softly</i>) +</p> +<p> +Master, I did not ask this price. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Shun</i> (<i>rising</i>) +</p> +<p> +It is paid. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +(CURTAIN) +</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page75" name="page75"></a>[75]</span> +</p> + +<a name="h2H_4_0008" id="h2H_4_0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + EVERYCHILD +</h2> +<h3> + A PLAY OR PAGEANT +</h3> + +<h3> +BY +<br /> +<span class="sc">Frederick Peterson</span> +<br /> +AND +<br /> +<span class="sc">Olive Tilford Dargan</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page76" name="page76"></a>[76]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + DRAMATIS PERSONĘ +</h2> + +<p> + <i>Scene I. The Garden of Joy</i> +</p> +<p class="scene"> + Cho-Cho The Clown Everychild Mother, Father, and dancing children +</p> +<p> +<i>Scene II. Sweat-shop</i> +</p> +<p class="scene"> + Father, Mother, three children, Everychild +</p> +<p> +<i>Scene III. The Farmstead</i> +</p> +<p class="scene"> + Jim the Father, Mary the Mother, Billie, Tom, and Rosie, their + children. Cho-Cho and Everychild +</p> +<p> +<i>Scene IV. The Coal-mine</i> +</p> +<p class="scene"> + Joe, Jack, Bert—three old miners and two boys +</p> +<p> +<i>Final Scene. Same as first scene</i> +</p> +<p class="scene"> + Cho-Cho, Everychild, Mother, Father. Old group of children and new + group with Everychild +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page77" name="page77"></a>[77]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + PROLOGUE +</h2> + +<p class="char"> + BY CHO-CHO +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4"> Good people! </p> +<p class="i2"> This is the Play of Everychild </p> +<p class="i2"> With Cho-Cho </p> +<p class="i2"> As Author and Manager. </p> +<p class="i2"> The play has defects— </p> +<p class="i2"> It has good points— </p> +<p class="i2"> And bad points— </p> +<p class="i2"> Like the world itself— </p> +<p class="i2"> Like life! </p> +<p class="i2"> Perhaps the author of the world </p> +<p class="i2"> Is something like me, </p> +<p class="i2"> A little grotesque, </p> +<p class="i2"> A little whimsical, </p> +<p class="i2"> Serious often, </p> +<p class="i2"> Sometimes all the more serious </p> +<p class="i2"> Seen through a Fool's words </p> +<p class="i2"> With cap and jingle of bells. </p> +<p class="i2"> In this droll world </p> +<p class="i2"> There are lots of children </p> +<p class="i2"> Who are the children of fools— </p> +<p class="i2"> Like me. </p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page78" name="page78"></a>[78]</span> + +<p class="i2"> Good people! </p> +<p class="i2"> I bespeak your patience </p> +<p class="i2"> With Everychild </p> +<p class="i2"> Daughter of a Clown. </p> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page79" name="page79"></a>[79]</span> +</p> + +<p class="scene"> + <span class="sc">Scene I</span>: <i>Stage dark as curtain rises. Moderate starlight and + quiet music of cradle-song type. Little fairies come out dancing in the + darkness with firefly lamps and sing the following cradle song:</i> +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Some one is sleeping </p> +<p class="i4"> Out in the dark </p> +<p class="i2"> Where fireflies glimmer </p> +<p class="i4"> Spark upon spark. </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Some little stranger </p> +<p class="i4"> Come from afar </p> +<p class="i2"> Under the glory </p> +<p class="i4"> Of moon and of star. </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Deep in the blossoms </p> +<p class="i4"> That drift as they fall </p> +<p class="i2"> Some one is sleeping </p> +<p class="i4"> And stirs not at all. </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Sleep, little stranger! </p> +<p class="i4"> The night is near gone; </p> +<p class="i2"> Sleep, little stranger, </p> +<p class="i4"> But dream of the dawn! </p> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page80" name="page80"></a>[80]</span> +</p> + +<p class="scene"> + <i>The dim light reveals a dark figure lying on the mosses at the foot of + an old tree. As the light grows gradually stronger the dark object + begins to move, to slowly take off one after another of black coverings, + revealing a little girl of nine or ten years, dressed in white. She rubs + her eyes, looks about wonderingly, and slowly rises to a standing + position. Meanwhile the earth grows more luminous and roseate. The birds + have begun to twitter now and then before the dawn, and their notes + increase in number and variety with the approach of morning. The growing + light reveals an orchard of old apple-trees near at hand in full bloom, + with petals falling, and hills and mountains lifting and towering upward + higher and higher into the blue distance. A path leads from the orchard + up the near hills and toward the heights. The music has grown louder, + and is sweet and tender, interspersed with bird notes. A number of + children, girls and boys, come out and sing and dance under the blossoms + of the apple-trees. They sing the children's song:</i> +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> We are of the sunrise </p> +<p class="i4"> Flower-breath and dew, </p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page81" name="page81"></a>[81]</span> + +<p class="i2"> Travelling wider circles </p> +<p class="i4"> Of blue beyond the blue, </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Seeking strength of spirit, </p> +<p class="i4"> Happiness and joy— </p> +<p class="i2"> Heritage decreed for </p> +<p class="i4"> Every girl and boy. </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Music of the moonbeams </p> +<p class="i4"> And the orchard rain, </p> +<p class="i2"> Music of the meadows </p> +<p class="i4"> Waving with the grain, </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Mountains in the sunlight, </p> +<p class="i4"> Colors of the flowers, </p> +<p class="i2"> Trailing cloud and shadow— </p> +<p class="i4"> All of these are ours. </p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> We are of the sunrise </p> +<p class="i4"> Flower-breath and dew, </p> +<p class="i2"> Travelling wider circles </p> +<p class="i4"> Of blue beyond the blue. </p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="scene"> + <i>The little girl in the foreground looks with wonder and delight at the + entrancing spectacle. She has her side to the audience. She raises her + arms, listens, rubs her eyes, smiles with joy. She touches the grass, + the flowers, the trees, + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page82" name="page82"></a>[82]</span> + + picks up and smells the falling apple-blossoms. She begins to dance like + the other children. One of them sees her and runs toward her with arms + outstretched. The newcomer touches her hair and her hands. They smile at + each other. The little girl leads the stranger toward the others and has + her join in the dance. The dancing is in the Greek manner. They play + with a light, large, bubble-like balloon.</i> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Little Girl</i> +</p> +<p> +What is your name? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Stranger</i> +</p> +<p> +I do not understand. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Little Girl</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, of course, I forgot. I will lead you to some one who will give you a +name. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>A man and woman have come slowly through the orchard and seated + themselves on a bench under an apple-tree. Two or three of the children + lead the stranger up to them.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Stranger</i> (<i>feeling of the hair and gown of the woman</i>) +</p> +<p> +Who are you? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Woman</i> (<i>smiling</i>) +</p> +<p> +I am your mother. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page83" name="page83"></a>[83]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Stranger</i> (<i>feeling of the hair and face and garments of the man</i>) +</p> +<p> +Who are you? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Man</i> +</p> +<p> +I am your father. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Stranger</i> +</p> +<p> +What place is this? They told me somewhere—but I have forgotten—that I +should die <i>there</i> which is being born <i>here</i> and come to the earth. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, this is our world, and I shall give you a name. I shall name you +Everychild. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +Is it always and everywhere so beautiful? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +No, but it should be so, and some day it will be so. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Father</i> +</p> +<p> +It is a dream we have. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +It will be even more beautiful than this, for we shall go higher, and +climb those Morning Mountains. The flowers of the Spirit grow there. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +And we shall gather them? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Father</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, Everychild. Come now, and bring all the + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page84" name="page84"></a>[84]</span> + + others with you. We will +take that path yonder to the hills. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +No, wait! They are not all here. There are some missing. They must all +come. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Father</i> +</p> +<p> +It will be so long to wait. Let us go with these. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> (<i>laying her hand on</i> <span class="sc">Everychild's</span> <i>head</i>) +</p> +<p> +Have we not named her Everychild? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Father</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes. She must go down and find all who have lost their way. Perhaps some +have awakened in the wrong place and are wandering about in the dark +jungle of the world. We will wait here till they come. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +Go, Everychild. Find them and bring them all back with you. Take this +lamp. (<i>Hands her a rose-colored lamp, etc.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Father</i> +</p> +<p> +Our lamp? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +Our love! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Father</i> +</p> +<p> +Take it, Everychild. With this lamp you can find the lost children and +bring them all back with you. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page85" name="page85"></a>[85]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +We will wait for them no matter how long. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Everychild</span> <i>starts down along a path leading off the stage to + the right—the music and singing continue through the whole scene.</i> + <span class="sc">Cho-Cho</span> <i>appears, right, for a moment and points her path to + her saying: "This way, Everychild."</i>) +</p> + +<p class="center"> +(CURTAIN FALLS) +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="sc">Curtain</span> <i>rises revealing</i> +</p> + +<p class="scene"> + <span class="sc">Scene II:</span> <i>A squalid room in a city tenement, a miserable + stove, a bedraggled bed. Right, a table at which a poorly dressed man + and woman are working fast and feverishly. Three children of about four, + eight, and ten years sit on a bench, left, sewing as fast as they can, + looking tired, depressed, weary. It is evening, the room poorly lit. + Noises from the street, street calls, rumbling of vehicles, honk of + autos, etc., etc.</i> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>The Younger Child</i> +</p> +<p> +Ma, can I go to bed? I am so tired and hungry. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +It ain't ten yet. It will be only a few minutes more. The boss is coming +early in the morning and we must have the work ready. Now you be + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page86" name="page86"></a>[86]</span> + + still and +keep working. You don't know what a good home you got. Ain't she got a +good home, John? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Father</i> +</p> +<p> +You bet she got a good home, and if you all work now we get the good +coffee and bread in the morning and perhaps in a couple a weeks we all +go to the movies. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Oldest Child</i> +</p> +<p> +Gee, I like to see that fairy play what we see once. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Bell strikes ten.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +Now, go right to bed, children. It is ten o'clock. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Takes light and goes with husband into room right. Children undress + and scramble into one bed.</i>) +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Street noises all discontinue, back of room opens out on to the + orchard and the music of first scene is heard with dancing children.</i> + <span class="sc">Everychild</span> <i>comes into the room with her rosy lamp. The three + children sit up in bed and rub their eyes.</i> <span class="sc">Everychild</span> <i>glides + all about the room and looks at the squalid place in dismay, then goes + up and smiles at the children.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page87" name="page87"></a>[87]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +You are some of the lost children. How did you get in here? Come with +me. I will give you some better clothes and you can dance and sing with +all of them. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>They get out of bed and she leads them in wonder and joy out into the + orchard.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="center"> +(CURTAIN FALLS) +</p> + +<p class="scene"> + <span class="sc">Scene III</span>: <i>Plain interior of a farmer's kitchen with farmer's + wife busy over stove, and kitchen table set for lunch for two. Adjacent + room, left, small bedroom in which lies a pallid thin child in bed with + dishes and bottles on little bedside table. Very little light. Curtains + to a single window down. Farmer in overalls comes in, looking hot and + tired. He throws hat on chair, says "Hullo, Mary, dinner ready?" and + proceeds to wash hands and face in a basin on a stool. Then sits down at + the table.</i> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> (<i>bringing food from stove and sitting down opposite</i>) +</p> +<p> +Here we are, Jim. Guess you're ready for something. It takes a man to +sprout a patch o' locusts, and you had breakfast by lamplight. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page88" name="page88"></a>[88]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +Some o' them roots seemed as long as from here to the barn. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +But you'll have the best pasture in the county next year. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +What's the good? We rationed our beef steers the way that government +chap taught us, and our pigs, and our sheep, and who got the profit? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +A lot more documents came from the government to-day—all about <i>pigs</i>. +And we haven't got a decent house to live in! If we could only build on +that pretty bit of high ground I've had picked out for three years, +Rosie would quit havin' these sick spells. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +How is she, mother? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +I b'lieve she's a little better. Jim, have you got any money left from +sellin' the car? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +You know we had to pay the interest at the bank first of all, and the +rest went for fertilizer. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +I miss the car more on Rosie's account than + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page89" name="page89"></a>[89]</span> + + mine. She's been cryin' +for a ride this morning. I didn't know what to say. And I had to promise +her she could go to the picnic if she got well. That'll mean a pretty +dress, and hat and shoes. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +I don't know where you'll get 'em then. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +Looks like we ought to be able to give our children a little pleasure. +There's poor Billie and Tom don't more'n get home from school an' lay +their books down till they have to go to hoein' and pullin' weeds. I +don't blame Billie a bit for runnin' away and goin' fishin' last +Saturday. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +I don't either, though I had to whip him for it. I can't do without his +work and get through. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +Get through? When did we ever get through anyhow? Look at this, Jim. +(<i>Picks up paper and points to paragraph.</i>) Beef steers sold to-day in +Chicago at nine cents a pound. It cost us fourteen cents to raise ours, +and we're countin' on makin' things easier by raisin' more next year. +And see here, it says <i>beef</i> went <i>up</i> in the Eastern market four cents. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page90" name="page90"></a>[90]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +Steers down, beef up! Robbin' both ways. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Billie</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Tom</span> <i>with schoolbooks, which + they throw down, shouting: "We got a half-holiday!"</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Billie</i> +</p> +<p> +The big boys are goin' to play ball. Dad, can't we go watch 'em? +(<span class="sc">Mary</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Jim</span> <i>look at each other.</i>) +</p> +<p> +We ain't seen a ball game this year, and we want to learn to play. +They're makin' a little boys' team at school. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +Daddy's workin' awfully hard to-day. He needs you bad to pile brush for +him. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +You can't go to-day, boys. Next time—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Billie</i> (<i>hopeless</i>) +</p> +<p> +Oh, next time! It's always next time. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +Wash up now, and you can have a hot dinner. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>They wash listlessly.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +Mary, I think you'd better telephone for the doctor to come and have a +look at Rosie. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page91" name="page91"></a>[91]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> (<i>hesitating</i>) +</p> +<p> +I did—this morning. He said he didn't have time to come out to-day. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +Dr. Lowden? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +Guess he's tired o' comin' for nothing. You can't blame him. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Jim</span> <i>hangs his head. A knock at the door.</i> <span class="sc">Jim</span> <i>rises + and opens it.</i> <span class="sc">Cho-cho</span> <i>enters giggling and grimacing while the + farmer and his wife are speechless with amazement.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Cho-Cho</i> +</p> +<p> +You sent for a doctor? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes—but—you—ain't—no doctor. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Cho-Cho</i> +</p> +<p> +No, I—ain't—no—doctor (<i>mimicking</i>), but my daughter is a doctor and +here she is now. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Enter</i> <span class="sc">Everychild</span> <i>disguised as a doctor, with a long black + cape hiding her white dress, a pair of goggles over her eyes, a long + white beard, a white wig, a man's hat on, a little black bag in her + hands.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page92" name="page92"></a>[92]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> (<i>tearing his hair distractedly</i>) +</p> +<p> +You say that little old man is your daughter and a doctor? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Cho-Cho</i> +</p> +<p> +That's right—but a new kind of doctor. This is a Health doctor, not a +Disease doctor. Present treatment for Health—absent treatment for +absence of Health. (<i>Ha—ha—hee—hee!</i>) I'll leave the doctor here. +(<i>Goes out.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +Well, well, where is the patient? (<i>Putting hat on chair.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> +</p> +<p> +I must be crazy, but I never seen a doctor like you. You ain't no +doctor. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, yes I am. I'm a children's specialist. Is she in that room? (<i>Goes +to door and opens it</i>—<i>draws back a little.</i>) Whew! No air. Lift up +that curtain and open the window! (<span class="sc">Jim</span> <i>does it, rather +aghast.</i>) You must show me where you keep your pigs. Don't they get +light and air on a day like this? (<i>Goes toward bed as</i> <span class="sc">Rosie</span> +<i>rises up in bed and stares with a smile at the little doctor</i>.) So this +is the little patient. Well! Well! (<i>Lifts up and looks at the +bottles.</i>) Take these and throw them out. + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page93" name="page93"></a>[93]</span> + + (<i>Hands them to</i> <span class="sc">Mary</span>, +<i>who takes them out and returns.</i>) My! My! Pork and potatoes and candy! +Of all things! I'll have to make out a diet list later. (<i>Feels +pulse—listens to her chest.</i>) I think the trouble with you is bad food, +bad air, and no light. The trouble is not enough agricultural pamphlets +on human live stock, not enough government millions spent on the real +thing. Now get up, Rose! Let me see you stand. There, that's good. Now a +comb and brush—we'll help this hair a little. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> (<i>handing</i> <span class="sc">Everychild</span> <i>a comb and brush</i>) +</p> +<p> +My hands are so full of work—— +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> (<i>arranging</i> <span class="sc">Rosie's</span> <i>hair</i>) +</p> +<p> +Yes, that's better. Now, father, a glass of milk! (<span class="sc">Jim</span> <i>goes +into kitchen.</i>) And mother, open that bag, please. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>While</i> <span class="sc">Mary</span> <i>opens bag.</i> <span class="sc">Jim</span> <i>returns with glass of + milk, which</i> <span class="sc">Rosie</span> <i>drinks.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, my! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Takes out pretty dress, stockings and slippers, which she lifts up, + looks at delightedly, and carries to the doctor.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Rosie</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, mother! You did get them! +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page94" name="page94"></a>[94]</span> +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">Everychild</span> <i>works fast, slips the gown on the patient with the + stockings and slippers, while</i> <span class="sc">Rosie</span> <i>smiles happily, though + dazed by the splendor of it.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Rosie</i> +</p> +<p> +Are you going to take me to the picnic? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +Indeed I am! A picnic that will never be over! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Rosie</i> +</p> +<p> +Are we going to ride? Have we got our car back? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +Better than that. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Rosie</i> +</p> +<p> +What is it? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +You'll see. Maybe you'll dance out of the window. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +Are you going to take her away? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, I shall keep her with me until she is well. Then she will return to +you. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Takes out of the bag the rosy lamp and waves it. Throws aside her cap + and pulls off goggles, wig, and beard. The back wall moves away, + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page95" name="page95"></a>[95]</span> + + revealing the first scene with the same strains of music and the + dancing children in the orchard.</i> <span class="sc">Everychild</span> <i>leads</i> + <span class="sc">Rosie</span> <i>out to join them.</i> <span class="sc">Billie</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Tom</span> + <i>move after them calling: "Let us go with you! Take us with you!"</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Rosie</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, please take Billie and Tom! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, I want them, too. Come along, boys! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>They shout and run after</i> <span class="sc">Rosie</span> <i>and</i> <span class="sc">Everychild</span>.) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mary</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, Jim, is this a dream? Or am I awake at last? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jim</i> (<i>putting his hand to his head, dazedly</i>) +</p> +<p> +Perhaps this is what it ought to be for all the children of the world. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +(CURTAIN FALLS) +</p> + +<p class="scene"> + <span class="sc">Scene IV</span>: <i>Interior of a coal-mine, lit only by lamps on the + heads of three men and two boys, about twelve and fourteen years, the + men busy at work getting the coal down with picks, the boys shovelling + coal into a car. They work a few minutes. Distant muffled sound of a + steam-whistle. + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page96" name="page96"></a>[96]</span> + + They immediately drop tools and go to corner and pick + up each a can, paper bag, or small basket, and sit down to eat.</i> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>One Man</i> +</p> +<p> +Lunch-time. It feels good to rest half an hour in this bloomin' hole. +(<i>Takes a drink from a bottle he brings from his pocket and hands to +another.</i>) Have a swig, Jack? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jack</i> +</p> +<p> +Don't care if I do. (<i>Takes a swallow.</i>) I'll bring some next time, Joe. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Joe</i> (<i>passing bottle to the other</i>) +</p> +<p> +Here, Bert, it helps. Take some and give a swallow to the boys. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bert</i> +</p> +<p> +I'll take some and thank you, but I guess the boys are better off +without it. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jack</i> +</p> +<p> +How long you worked here, Bert? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Bert</i> +</p> +<p> +Nigh on fifteen years, and a devil's job it is. I wanted to be a sailor, +but I got into this, and it paid pretty good, and then I got tangled up +with a family and just stayed on the job. But it's no place to spend a +life. (<i>Coughs.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page97" name="page97"></a>[97]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Joe</i> +</p> +<p> +I been here 'bout as long as you, Bert. I ran away from the big woods +where my father was a lumberman. Thought I'd see the world, and just got +stuck here and never could make up my mind to get away. See the world, +eh! All I ever seed was de inside of it. If I had my way to do over +again, I think I'd take to the tall timber up dere on top. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>Meantime the two boys, while eating with one hand out of their cans, + have been whispering and playing knuckle-bones with pieces of coal, a + little way from and behind the men. Suddenly they stop, look around at + each other and listen, for they hear the fairy dance music of the first + scene, which is not heard by these older men, who go on talking.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>First Boy</i> +</p> +<p> +Dey's havin' parade up dere. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Second Boy</i> +</p> +<p> +Dat ain't band music, you mutt. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<span class="sc">First Boy</span> <i>begins to sway as if in time with the music.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Second Boy</i> +</p> +<p> +Wot's the matter? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page98" name="page98"></a>[98]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>First Boy</i> (<i>sheepish</i>) +</p> +<p> +Nuthin'. (<i>Tries to keep still. They both listen.</i>) Did yer ever dance, +Buck? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Second Boy</i> +</p> +<p> +Naw. (<i>Listens.</i>) But I bet I could! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>First Boy</i> +</p> +<p> +I had a dream onct. I dremp I's in an orchard, an' they's blooms +floatin' round. I could smell 'em! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Second Boy</i> +</p> +<p> +You's nutty. You can't smell in a dream. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>They listen, and finally yield to the music, swaying their bodies, + moving their arms, and beginning to dance as the music goes on.</i>) +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Jack</i> +</p> +<p> +I've been here fourteen years, since I was a boy. It ain't a place for +a man. It's too black. You get black outside and inside. Why, they say +your lungs get black from breathing this dust. And your soul gets black. +The place for an honest man to work is out in the white light, on your +ocean or in your woods, or on the roads and railways, and in the big +buildings. This kind of work is work with punishment added to it. A +little of it would be all right for men who go wrong, or for some as +needs discipline. Then some day + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page99" name="page99"></a>[99]</span> + + they'll get machines to do the rest. +Ah—there's the whistle. Come on, boys, to work again! +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>A whistle sounds and all start to work as before.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="center"> +(CURTAIN FALLS) +</p> + +<p class="scene"> + <span class="sc">Final Scene</span>: <i>Curtain rises on final scene. Same as first, with + music as before, and with the mother and father and children among the + apple-trees.</i> <span class="sc">Cho-cho</span> <i>appears, right, and says: + "Here they come!"</i> <span class="sc">Everychild</span> <i>enters, right, bringing with her a number + of children, who follow her and then scatter under the trees.</i> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Everychild</i> +</p> +<p> +Oh, mother, I went everywhere, and we've brought all who could come! +But there were some in holes in the ground that I couldn't reach, though +we danced and danced, and called and called. They were too far down. +And there were some ill and crippled, in hospitals, that couldn't walk, +and some hidden away in great buildings called factories—and some in +tenements, where there was no sun, and no green grass to walk on. +Mother, what shall we do? It was so hard to leave them. Won't you go +back with me, and help me? +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page100" name="page100"></a>[100]</span> +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, Everychild. We must all go. Not one must be left down there. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Father</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, we cannot go on up the Morning Mountains until they come. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Mother</i> +</p> +<p> +We will start at once, all of us, down through the highways and valleys +and cities of the world, and bring them here. Come, children, let us go. +</p> +<p class="stage"> + (<i>They gather about her and start down, right, singing as they go.</i> + <span class="sc">Cho-cho</span> <i>lingers behind for a few moments and pronounces an + epilogue.</i>) +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page101" name="page101"></a>[101]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + EPILOGUE +</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"> Not all here yet— </p> +<p class="i2"> But they must come </p> +<p class="i2"> To this sunshine— </p> +<p class="i2"> To these mountains— </p> +<p class="i2"> To these birds and trees— </p> +<p class="i2"> To the music— </p> +<p class="i2"> To the Land of Health, </p> +<p class="i2"> The Land of Happiness— </p> +<p class="i2"> They may be gay <i>there</i>— </p> +<p class="i6"> Sometimes— </p> +<p class="i6"> Sometimes— </p> +<p class="i2"> But <i>that</i> is a fool's Paradise— </p> +<p class="i2"> My old Kingdom— </p> +<p class="i2"> And I must lead them up </p> +<p class="i2"> To this new land </p> +<p class="i2"> Of hope and joy. </p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +(CURTAIN FALLS) +</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page102" name="page102"></a>[102]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page103" name="page103"></a>[103]</span> +</p> + +<a name="h2H_4_0012" id="h2H_4_0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + TWO DOCTORS AT AKRAGAS +</h2> + +<h3> + BY +<br /> +<span class="sc">Frederick Peterson</span> +</h3> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page104" name="page104"></a>[104]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + CHARACTERS +</h2> + +<p> <span class="sc">Akron</span></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Empedocles</span></p> +<p> <span class="sc">Pantheia</span></p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page105" name="page105"></a>[105]</span> +</p> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + TWO DOCTORS AT AKRAGAS +</h2> +<p class="center" style="font-size: 80%;">[<i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, 1911.]</p> + +<div style="height: 2em;"><br /><br /></div> + +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +She has been dead these thirty days. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +How say you, thirty days! and there is no feature of corruption? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +None. She has the marble signature of death writ in her whole fair +frame. She lies upon her ivory bed, robed in the soft stuffs of Tyre, as +if new-cut from Pentelikon by Phidias, or spread upon the wood by the +magic brush of Zeuxis, seeming as much alive as this, no more, no less. +There is no beat of heart nor slightest heave of breast. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +And have you made the tests of death? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +There is no bleeding to the prick, nor film of breath upon the bronze +mirror. They have had the best of the faculty in Akragas, Gela, and +Syracuse, all save you; and I am sent by the dazed parents to beseech +you to leave for a time the + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page106" name="page106"></a>[106]</span> + + affairs of state and the great problems +of philosophy, to essay your ancient skill in this strange mystery of +life in death and death in life. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +I will go with you. Where lies the house? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +Down yonder street of statues, past the Agora, and hard by the new +temple that is building to Olympian Zeus. It is the new house of yellow +sandstone, three stories in height, with the carved balconies and +wrought brazen doors. Pantheia is her name. I lead the way. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +The streets are full to-day and dazzling with color. So many carpets +hang from the windows, and so many banners are flying! So many +white-horsed chariots, and such concourses of dark slaves from every +land in the long African crescent of the midland sea, from the pillars +of Hercules to ferocious Carthage and beyond to the confines of Egypt +and Phœnicia! Ah, I remember now! It is a gala day—the expected +visit of Pindar. I am to dine with him to-morrow at the Trireme. We +moderns are doing more to celebrate his coming than our fathers did for +Ęschylus when he was here. I was very young then, but I remember + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page107" name="page107"></a>[107]</span> + + running with the other boys after him just to touch his soft gown and +look into his noble face. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +I have several rolls of his plays, that I keep with some new papyri of +Pindar arrived by the last galley from Corinth, in the iron chest inside +my office door, along with some less worthy bags of gold of Tarshish and +coinage of Athens, Sybaris, Panormos, and Syracuse. Ah, here is the +door! It is ajar, and if you will go into the courtyard by the fountain +and seat yourself under the palm-trees and azaleas on yon bench, by the +statue of the nymph, I will go up to announce your coming. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +All is still save for the far, faint step of Akron on the stair, and the +still fainter murmur from the streets. The very goldfish in the fountain +do not stir, and the long line of slaves against the marble wall, save +for their branded foreheads, might be gaunt caryatides hewn in Egyptian +wood or carved in ebony and amber. That gaudy tropic bird scarce ruffles +a feather. What is the difference between life and death? A voice, a +call, some sudden strange or familiar message on old paths, to the +consciousness that lies under that + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page108" name="page108"></a>[108]</span> + + apparent unconsciousness, will waken +all these semblances of inanimation into new life of arms and fins and +wings. Let me try her thus! My grandfather was a pupil of Pythagoras who +had seen many such death-semblances among the peoples of the white +sacred mountains of far India. Ha! Akron beckons. I must follow him. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +Enter yon doorway where the white figure lies resplendent with jewels +that gleam in the morning sun. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +The arm drawn downward by the heavy golden bracelet is cold, yet soft +and yielding like a sleep. The face has the natural ease of slumber, and +not the rigid artificiality of death. 'Tis true there is no pulse, no +beat of heart nor stir of breath, yet neither is there the sombre +grotesqueness of the last pose. But the difference between life and +death is here so small that it is incommensurable, the point of the +mathematicians only. I shall hold this little hand in mine, and, with a +hand upon her forehead, call her by name; for, you know, Akron, one's +name has a power beyond every other word to reach the closed ears of the +imprisoned soul. +</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page109" name="page109"></a>[109]</span> +</p> +<p> +Pantheia! Pantheia! Pantheia! It is dawn. Your father calls you. Your +mother calls you. And I call you and command you. Open your eyes and +behold the sun! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +A miracle, oh, Zeus! The eyelids tremble like flower-petals under the +wind of heaven. Was that a sigh or the swish of wings? Oh, wonder of +wonders! she breathes—she whispers! +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Pantheia</i> +</p> +<p> +Where am I? Is this death? Some one called my name. That is the pictured +ceiling of my own room. Surely that is Zaldu, my pet slave, with big +drops on her black face.... And father, mother, kneeling either side. +And who are you with rapt face and star-deep eyes, thick hair with +Delphic wreaths, and in purple gown and golden girdle? Are you a god? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +Be tranquil, child, I am no god, only a physician come to heal you. You +have been ill and sleeping a long time. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Pantheia</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, I feel weakness, hunger, and thirst. I remember now that I was +well, when suddenly a strange thought came to me on my pillow. I + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page110" name="page110"></a>[110]</span> + + thought that I was dead. This took such possession of me that it shut +out every other thought, and being able to think only that one thought, +I must have been dead. It seemed but a moment's time when the spell of +the thought was broken by an alien deep voice from the void of nothing +about me, calling me by name, calling me to wake and see the day. With +that came floods of my own old thoughts, like molten streams from Ętna, +that were rigid as granite before the word was given that loosed them. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +Did you not see new things or new lands or old dead faces, for you have +been gone a month? I am curious to know. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Pantheia</i> +</p> +<p> +How passing strange! No, I saw neither darkness nor light. I heard no +sounds, nor was conscious of any silence. I must have had just the one +thought that I was dead, but I lost consciousness of that thought. I +remember saying good night to Zaldu, and I handed her the quaint doll +from Egypt and bade her care for it. Then the thought seized me, and I +knew no more. My thoughts which had always run so freely before, like a +plashing brook, must have suddenly frozen, + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page111" name="page111"></a>[111]</span> + + as the amber-trader from +the Baltic told me one day the rivers do in his far northern home. Oh, +sir, are you going so soon? +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +Yes, child. You must take nourishment now, and talk no more. But I am +coming again to see you, for I have many earnest questions still to put +regarding this singular adventure. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +Let me walk with you. I will close the great door. Already the gay +streets are silent, and the people crowd this way, whispering awe-struck +together of the deed of wonder you have done this day. You have called +back the dead to life, and they make obeisance to you as you pass, as if +you were in truth a son of the immortals. Your name will go down the +ages linked with the miracle of Pantheia. You are immortal. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +Nay, 'tis not so strange as that, and yet 'tis stranger. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Akron</i> +</p> +<p> +I would know your meaning better. +</p> +<p class="char"> +<i>Empedocles</i> +</p> +<p> +The power of a thought, that is the real wonder! + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page112" name="page112"></a>[112]</span> + + We just begin to have +glimpses of the effects of the mind upon the body. To me, Akron, the +faculty has set too great store upon herbs and bitter drafts, and +cutting with the knife. I would fain have the soul acknowledged more, +our therapy built on the dual mechanism of mind and substance. For if an +idea can lead to the apparent death of the whole body, so might other +ideas bring about the apparent death of a part of the body, like, for +example, a paralysis of the members, or of the senses of sight, feeling, +hearing; and in truth I have seen such things. Or a thought might give +rise to a pain, or to a feeling of general illness, or to a feeling of +local disorder in some internal organ; and I feel sure I have likewise +met with such instances. And if an idea may produce such ailments, then +a contrary idea implanted by the physician may heal them. I believe this +to be the secret of many of the marvels we see at the temples and +shrines of Ęsculapius and of the cures made by the touch of seers and +kings. +</p> +<p> +But this teaching goes much deeper and further. If we could in the +schools implant in our youth ideas which were strong enough, we should +be able to make of them all, each in proportion to his belief + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page113" name="page113"></a>[113]</span> + + in himself and his ambition, great men, great generals, thinkers, poets, +a new race of heroes in all lines of human endeavor, who should be able +by their united strength of idea and ideal finally to people the world +with gods. +</p> +<p> +I have among my slaves, who work as vintners and olive-gatherers, a +physician of Thrace, as also a philosopher of the island of Rhodes, a +member of the Pythagorean League. These I bought not long ago from the +Etruscan pirates. Every evening I have them come to me on the roof after +the evening meal, and there under the quiet of the stars we discuss life +and death, the soul and immortality, and all the burning problems of +order, harmony, and number in the universe. What surprises me is that +this Thracian should be so in advance of the physicians of Hellas, +for he holds as I do that the mind should be first considered in the +treatment of most disorders of the body, because of its tremendous +power to force the healing processes, and because sometimes it +actually induces disease and death. And we have talked together of the +incalculable value of faith and enthusiasm so applied in the education +of the child, this new kind of gardening in the budding soul of mankind, +and of what new and august + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page114" name="page114"></a>[114]</span> + + races might thereby come to repeople this +rather unsatisfactory globe. +</p> +<p> +I am minded to free these slaves, indeed all my slaves, and I have the +intention of devoting the most of a considerable fortune, both inherited +and amassed by me, to the spread of these doctrines and to the public +weal, particularly in the matter of planting in the souls of our youth, +not the mere ability to read and write Greek and do sums in arithmetic, +but the seeds of noble ideas that shall make this Trinacria of ours a +still more wonderful human garden than it has been as a granary for the +world's practical needs. From this sea-centre we send our freighted +galleys to Gades in the West, Carthage in the South, Tyre in the East, +and to the red-bearded foresters of the Far North. I would still send on +these same routes this food, but also better food than this, stuff that +should kindle and feed intellectual fires in all the remote places of +the earth. +</p> + +<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<hr /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other +Plays, by Olive Tilford Dargan and Frederick Peterson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF *** + +***** This file should be named 20172-h.htm or 20172-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/7/20172/ + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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