Madame le Bargy.Nanette! Child! My child! [She rushes to take Diane in her arms.] Nanette, what have you done, what have you done?
Nanette.I have rid Maurice of a stain.
Diane[calling softly]. Maurice, Maurice.... Oh, I knew you couldn't stay away. I knew you would come back to me. Now we will never be separated. We will be together like this for always—for all time.
Madame le Bargy[softly]. For all time, Diane.
Nanette[kneeling beside Diane—crossing herself]. For all time.
[Curtain.]
Copyright, 1915, by Percival Wilde.Professional stage and motion picture rights reserved.
The Finger of Godwas produced by the Wisconsin Players at the Wisconsin Little Theatre,Milwaukee, Wis., March 28, 1916, and subsequently, with the following cast:
StricklandFrederick Irving Deakin.BensonHarry V. Meissner.A GirlMarjorie Frances Hollis.
Under the direction ofFrederic Irving Deakin.
Reprinted from "Dawn, and Other One-Act Plays of Life To-day" by permission of, and special arrangement with, Mr. Wilde. The acting rights in this play are strictly reserved. Performances may be given byamateursupon payment to the author of a royalty of five dollars ($5.00) for each performance. Production by professional actors, without the written consent of the author, is forbidden. Persons who wish to produce this play should apply to Mr. Percival Wilde, in care of Walter H. Baker & Co., 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Mass.
A Play
By Percival Wilde
[The living room of Strickland's apartment. At the rear, a doorway, heavily curtained, leads into another room. At the left of the doorway, a bay window, also heavily curtained, is set into the diagonal wall. Near the center, an ornate writing desk, upon which is a telephone. At the right, the main entrance. The furnishings, in general, are luxurious and costly.
As the curtain rises Strickland, kneeling, is burning papers in a grate near the main door. Benson, his valet, is packing a suitcase which lies open on the writing desk. It is ten-thirty; a bitterly cold night in winter.]
Strickland.Benson!
Benson.Yes, sir.
Strickland.Close the window: it's cold.
Benson[goes to the window]. The windowisclosed, sir. It's been closed all evening.
Strickland[shivers and buttons his coat tightly]. Benson.
Benson.Yes, sir?
Strickland.Don't forget a heavy overcoat.
Benson.I've put it in already, sir.
Strickland.Plenty of fresh linen?
Benson.Yes, sir.
Strickland.Collars and ties?
Benson.I've looked out for everything, sir.
Strickland[after a pause]. You sent off the trunks this afternoon?
Benson.Yes, sir.
Strickland.You're sure they can't be traced?
Benson.I had one wagon take them to a vacant lot, and another wagon take them to the station.
Strickland.Good!
Benson.I checked them through to Chicago. Here are the checks. [He hands them over.] What train do we take, sir?
Strickland.Itake the midnight. You follow me some time next week. We mustn't be seen leaving town together.
Benson.How will I find you in Chicago?
Strickland.You won't. You'll take rooms somewheres, and I'll take rooms somewheres else till it's all blown over. When I want you I'll put an ad in the "Tribune."
Benson.You don't know when that will be, sir?
Strickland.As soon as I think it is safe. It may be two weeks. It may be a couple of months. But you will stay in Chicago till you hear from me one way or the other. You understand?
Benson.Yes, sir.
Strickland.Have you plenty of money?
Benson.Not enough to last a couple of months.
Strickland[producing a large pocketbook]. How much do you want?
Benson.Five or six hundred.
Strickland[takes out a fewbills. Stops]. Wait a minute! I left that much in my bureau drawer.
[He goes toward the door.]
Benson.Mr. Strickland?
Strickland.Yes?
Benson.It's the midnight train for Chicago, isn't it?
Strickland.Yes.
[He goes into the next room.]
Benson[waits an instant. Then he lifts the telephone receiver, and speaks very quietly]. Hello. Murray Hill 3500.... Hello. This Finley? This is Benson.... He's going to take the midnight train for Chicago. Pennsylvania. You had better arrest him at the station. If he once gets to Chicago you'll never find him. And, Finley, you won't forgetme, will you?... I want five thousand dollars for it. Yes, five thousand. That's little enough. He's got almost three hundred thousand on him, and you won't turn inallof that to Headquarters. Yes, it's cash. Large bills. [Strickland's step is heard.] Midnight for Chicago.
[Benson hangs up the receiver and is busy with the suitcase as Strickland enters.]
Strickland.Here's your money, Benson. Count it.
Benson[after counting]. Six hundred dollars, thank you, sir. [He picks up the closed suitcase.] Shall I go now?
Strickland.No. Wait a minute. [He goes to the telephone.] Hello, Madison Square 7900 ... Pennsylvania? I want a stateroom for Chicago, midnight train. Yes, to-night.
Benson.Don't give your own name, sir.
Strickland.No. The name is Stevens.... Oh, you have one reserved in that name already? Well, this isAlfredStevens.... You have it reserved in that name? Then give me another stateroom.... What? You haven't any other? [He pauses in an instant's thought. Then, decisively]: Never mind, then. Good-by. [He turns to Benson.] Benson, go right down to the Pennsylvania, and get the stateroom that is reserved for Alfred Stevens. You've got to get there before he does. Wait for me at the train gate.
Benson.Yes, sir.
Strickland.Don't waste any time. I'll see you later.
Benson.Very well, sir.
[He takes up the suitcase, and goes.]
Strickland[left alone, opens drawer after drawer of the desk systematically, dumping what few papers are still left into the fire. Outside a wintry gale whistles, and shakes the locked window. Suddenly there is a knock at the door. He pauses, very much startled. A little wait, and then the knock, a single knock, is repeated. He rises, goes to the door, opens it.] Who's there?
A Girl.I, sir.
[She enters. She is young: certainly under thirty: perhaps under twenty-five: possibly still younger. A somewhat shabby boa of some dark fur encircles her neck, and makes her pallid face stand out with startling distinctness from beneath a mass of lustrous brown hair. And as she steps over the threshold she gives a little shiver of comfort, for it is cold outside, and her thin shoulders have been shielded from the driving snow by a threadbare coat. She enters the warm room gracefully, and little rivulets of melted ice trickle to the floor from her inadequate clothing. Her lips are blue. Her hands tremble in their worn white gloves. A seat before a blazing fire, or perhaps, a sip of some strong cordial—this is what she needs. But Strickland has no time for such things. He greets her with a volley of questions.]
Strickland.Who are you?
The Girl.Who, don't you remember me, sir?
Strickland.No.
The Girl.I'm from the office, sir.
Strickland.The office?
The Girl.Youroffice. I'm one of your personal stenographers, sir.
Strickland.Oh. I suppose I didn't recognize you on account of the hat. What do you want?
The Girl.There were some letters which came late this afternoon—
Strickland[interrupting harshly]. And you're bothering me with them now? [He crosses to the door, and holds it open.]I've got no time. Good night.
The Girl[timidly]. I thought you'd want to see these letters.
Strickland.Plenty of time to-morrow.
The Girl.But you won't be here to-morrow, will you?
Strickland[starting violently]. Won't be here? What do you mean?
The Girl.You're taking the train to Chicago to-night.
Strickland.How did you know—[He stops himself. Then, with forced ease.] Taking a train to Chicago? Of course not! What put that in your head?
The Girl.Why, you told me, sir.
Strickland.Itold you?
The Girl.You said so this afternoon.
Strickland[harshly]. I didn't see you this afternoon!
The Girl[without contradicting him]. No, sir? [She produces a time-table.] Then I found this time-table.
[She holds it out. He snatches it.]
Strickland.Where did you find it?
The Girl.On your desk, sir.
Strickland.On my desk?
The Girl.Yes, sir.
Strickland[suddenly and directly]. You're lying!
The Girl.Why, Mr. Strickland!
Strickland.That time-table never reached my desk! I lost it between the railroad station and my office.
The Girl.Did you, sir? But it's the same time-table: you see, you checked the midnight train. [He looks at her suspiciously.] I reserved a stateroom for you.
Strickland[astonished]. You reserved a stateroom?
The Girl[smiling]. I knew you'd forget it. You have your head so full of other things. So I telephoned as soon as you left the office.
Strickland[biting his lip angrily]. I suppose you made the reservation in my own name?
The Girl.No, sir.
Strickland[immensely surprised]. What?
The Girl.I thought you'd prefer some other name: you didn't want your trip to be known.
Strickland.No, I didn't. [A good deal startled, he looks at her as if he were about to ask, "How did you know that?" She returns his gaze unflinchingly. The question remains unasked. But a sudden thought strikes him.] What name did you give?
The Girl.Stevens, sir.
Strickland[thunderstruck]. Stevens?
The Girl.Alfred Stevens.
Strickland[gasping]. What made you choose that name?
The Girl.I don't know, sir.
Strickland.You don'tknow?
The Girl.No, sir. It was just the first name that popped into my head. I said "Stevens," and when the clerk asked for the first name, I said "Alfred."
Strickland[after a pause]. Have you everknownanybody of that name?
The Girl.No, sir.
Strickland[with curious insistence]. You aresureyou never knew anybody of that name?
The Girl.How can I be sure? I may have; I don't remember it.
Strickland[abruptly]. How old are you? [He gives her no time to answer.] You're not twenty, are you?
The Girl[smiling]. Do you think so?
Strickland[continuing the current of his thoughts]. And I'm forty-seven. It was more than twenty-five years ago.... You couldn't have known.
The Girl[after a pause]. No, sir.
Strickland[looking at her with something of fear in his eye]. What is your name?
The Girl.Does it matter? You didn't recognize myfacea few minutes ago; mynamecan't mean much to you. I'm just one of the office force: I'm the girl who answers when you push the button three times. [She opens a handbag.] These are the letters I brought with me.
Strickland[not offering to take them]. What are they about?
The Girl[opening the first]. This is from a woman who wants to invest some money.
Strickland.How much?
The Girl.Only a thousand dollars.
Strickland.Why didn't you turn it over to the clerks?
The Girl.The savings of a lifetime, she writes.
Strickland.What of it?
The Girl.She wrote that she had confidence in you. She says that she wants you to invest it for her yourself.
Strickland.You shouldn't have bothered me with that. [He pauses.] Did she inclose the money?
The Girl.Yes. A certified check.
[She hands it over to him.]
Strickland[taking the check, and putting it in his pocketbook]. Write her—oh, you know what to write: that I will give the matter my personal attention.
The Girl.Yes, sir. She says she doesn't want a big return on her investment. She wants something that will be perfectly safe, and she knows you will take care of her.
Strickland.Yes. Of course. What else have you?
The Girl.A dozen other letters like it.
Strickland.All from old women?
The Girl[seriously]. Some of them. Here is one from a young man who has saved a little money. He says that when he gets a little more he's going to open a store, and go into business for himself. Here is another from a girl whose father was an ironworker. He was killed accidentally, and she wants you to invest the insurance. Here is another from—but they're all pretty much alike.
Strickland.Why did you bring them here?
The Girl.Every one of these letters asks you to do the investing yourself.
Strickland.Oh!
The Girl.And you're leaving town to-night. Here are the checks. [She passes them over.] Every one of them is made out to you personally; not to the firm.
Strickland[after a pause]. You shouldn't have come here.... I haven't time to bother with that sort of thing. Every man who has five dollars to invest asks the head of the firm to attend to it himself. It means nothing. I get hundreds of letters like those.
The Girl.Still—
Strickland.What?
The Girl.You must do something to deserve such letters or they wouldn't keep on coming in. [She smiles.] It's a wonderful thing to inspire such confidence in people?
Strickland.Do you think so?
The Girl.It is more than wonderful! It is magnificent! These people don't know you from Adam. Not one in a hundred has seen you: not one in a thousand calls you by your first name. But they've all heard of you: you're as real to them as if you were a member of their family. And what is even more real than you is your reputation! Something in which they rest their absolute confidence: something in which they place their implicit trust!
Strickland[slowly]. So you think there are few honest men?
The Girl.No: there are many of them. But there is something about you that is different: something in the tone of your voice: something in the way you shake hands: something in the look of your eye, that is reassuring. There is never a doubt—never a question about you. Oh, it's splendid! Simply splendid! [She pauses.] What a satisfaction it must be to you to walk along the street and know that every one you meet must say to himself, "There goes an honest man!" It's been such an inspiration to me!
Strickland.Toyou?
The Girl.Oh, I know that I'm just one of the office force to you. You don't even know my name. But you don't imagine that any one can see you as I have seen you, can work with you as I have worked with you, without there beingsomekind of an effect? You know, in my own troubles—
Strickland[interrupting]. Soyouhave troubles?
The Girl.You don't pay me a very big salary, and there are others whom I must help. But I'm not complaining. [She smiles.] I—I used to be like the other girls. I used to watch the clock. I used to count the hours and the minutes till the day's work was over. But it's different now.
Strickland[slowly]. How—different?
The Girl.I thought it over, and I made up my mind that it wasn't right to count the minutes you worked for an honest man. [Strickland turns away.] And there is a new pleasure in my work: I do my best—that's all I can do, butyoudo your best, and it's theleastI can do.
Strickland[after a pause]. Are you sure—I do my best? Are you sure I am an honest man?
The Girl.Don't you know it yourself, Mr. Strickland?
Strickland[after another pause]. You remember—a few minutes ago, you spoke the name of Alfred Stevens?
The Girl.Yes.
Strickland.Suppose I told you that there oncewasan Alfred Stevens? [The girl does not answer.] Suppose I told you that Stevens, whom I knew, stole money—stole it when there was no excuse for it—when he didn't need it. His people had plenty, and they gave him plenty. But the chance came, and he couldn't resist the temptation.... He was eighteen years old then.
The Girl[gently]. Only a boy.
Strickland.Only a boy, yes, but he had the dishonest streak in him! Other boys passed by the same opportunity. Stevens didn't even know what to do with the money when he had stolen it. They caught him in less than twenty-four hours. It was almost funny.
The Girl.He was punished.
Strickland[nodding]. He served a year in jail. God! What a year! His folks wouldn't do a thing for him: they said such a thing had never happened in the family. And they let him take the consequences. [He pauses.] When he got out—[stopping to correct himself]—when he wasletout, his family offered him help. But he was too proud to accept the help: it hadn't been offered when he needed it most. He told his family that he never wanted to see them again. He changed his name so they couldn't find him. He left his home town. He came here.
The Girl.And he has been honest ever since!
Strickland.Ever since: for twenty-eight years! It was hard at times, terribly hard! In the beginning, when he had to go hungry and cold, when he saw other men riding around in carriages, he wondered if he hadn't made a mistake. He had knocked about a good deal; he had learnt a lot, and he wouldn't have been caught so easily the second time. It wasalmostworth taking the chance! It wasalmostworth getting a foot of lead pipe, and waiting in some dark street, waiting, waiting for some sleekhonestman with his pockets full of money! It would have been so simple! And he knewhow! I don't know why he didn't do it.
The Girl.Tell me more.
Strickland.He managed to live. It wasn't pleasant living. But he stayed alive! I don't like to think of what he did to stay alive: it was humiliating; it was shameful, because he hadn't been brought up to do that kind of thing, but it was honest. Honest, and when he walked home from his work at six o'clock, walked home to save the nickel, his betters never crowded him because they didn't want to soil their clothes with hishonestdirt! He had thought the year in jail was terrible. The first year he was free was worse. He had never been hungry in jail.
The Girl.Then his chance came.
Strickland.Yes, itwasa chance. He found a purse in the gutter, and he returned it to the owner before he had made up his mind whether to keep it or not. So they said he was honest! He knew he wasn't! He knew that he had returned it because there was so much money in it that he was afraid to keep it, but he never told them that. And when the man who owned the purse gave him a job, he worked—worked because he was afraid not to work—worked so that he wouldn't have any time to think, because he knew that if he began to think, he would begin to steal! Then they said he was a hard worker, and they promoted him: they made him manager. That gave him more chances to steal, but there were so many men watching him, so many men anxious for him to make a slip so that they might climb over him, that he didn't dare.
[He pauses.]
The Girl.And then?
Strickland.The rest was easy. Nothing succeeds like a good reputation, and he didn't steal because he knew they'd catch him. [He pauses again.] But he wasn't honest at bottom! The rotten streak was still there! After twenty-eight years things began to be bad. He speculated: lost all the money he could call his own, and he made up his mind to take other money thatwasn'this own, all he could lay his hands on, and run off with it! It was wrong! It was the work of a lifetime gone to hell! But it was the rottenness in him coming to the surface! It was the thief he thought dead coming to life again!
The Girl[after a pause]. What a pity!
Strickland.He had been honest so long—he had made other people think that he was honest so long, that he had madehimselfthink that he was honest!
The Girl.Was he wrong, Mr. Strickland?
Strickland[looking into her eyes; very quietly]. Stevens, please. [There is a long pause.] I don't know what sent you: who sent you: but you've come here to-night as I am running away. You're too late. You can't stop me. Not even the finger of God Himself could stop me! I've gone too far. [He goes on in a voice which is low, but terrible in its earnestness.] Here is money! [He pulls out his pocketbook.] Hundreds of thousands of it, not a cent of it mine! And I'm stealing it, do you understand me?Stealingit! To-morrow the firm will be bankrupt, and there'll be a reward out for me. [He smiles grimly, and bows.] Here, if you please, is your honest man! What have you to say to him?
The Girl[very quietly]. The man who has been honest so long that he has madehimselfthink that he is honest can't steal!
Strickland[hoarsely]. You believethat?
The Girl[opening her bag again]. I was left a little money this week: only a few hundred dollars, hardly enough to bother you with. Will you take care of it for me—Alfred Stevens?
Strickland.Good God!
[And utterly unnerved he collapses to a chair. There is a long pause.]
The Girl[crossing slowly to the window, and drawing aside the curtain]. Look! What a beautiful night! The thousands of sleeping houses! The millions of shining stars! And the lights beneath! And in the distance, how the stars and the lights meet! So that one cannot say: "Here Gods ends; Here Man begins."
[The telephone rings, harshly, and shrilly. Strickland goes to the receiver.]
Strickland[quietly]. Yes?... You're afraid I'm going to miss the train?... Yes? Well, I'mgoingto miss the train!... I'm going to stay and face the music! [Hysterically.] I'm an honest man, d'ye hear me? I'm an honest man. [And furiously, he pitches the telephone to the floor, and stands panting, shivering, on the spot. From the window a soft radiance beckons, and trembling in every limb, putting out his hands as if to ward off some unseen obstacle, he moves there slowly.] Did you hear what I told him? I'm going to make good. I'm going to face the music! Because I'm an honest man! An honest man!
[He gasps, stops abruptly, and in a sudden panic-stricken movement, tears the curtains down. The window is closed—has never been opened—but the girl has vanished. And as Strickland, burying his face in his hands, drops to his knees in awe,
The Curtain Falls.]
Translated by Jack Robbins.Copyright, 1920, by Sholom Asch.All rights reserved.
Nightwas originally produced by the East-West Players, at the Berkeley Theatre, New York City, April 7, 1916, with the following cast:
The Outcast[prostitute]Miriam Reinhardt.The DrunkardMark Hoffman.The BeggarMaxim Vodianoy.The BastardJack Dickler.The FoolMax Lieberman.The ThiefGustav Blum.HelenkaElizabeth Meltzer.The Drunkard's WifeBryna Zaranov.
Produced under the direction ofGustav Blum.
Applications for permission to produceNightmust be addressed to Mr. Sholom Asch,3 Bank Street, New York.
A Play
By Sholom Asch
[Night in a market place. A small fire burns near a well. On a bench near it sleeps the Beggar. The old Prostitute is warming herself. There is the sound of dogs barking in the distance. Vast shadows move about the market-place. The Drunkard emerges from the gloom of the night.]
Drunkard.Good evening, Madam Prostitute. [Listens to the dogs.] Why are the dogs whining like this to-night?
Prostitute.They must be seeing things.
Drunkard.Yes, your black soul. Perhaps they think you a devil. That's why they chase all over the butchers' stalls. No wonder. They've reason to be afraid.
Beggar[in his sleep]. He-he-he. Ha-ha-ha.
Prostitute.A drunkard and a prostitute are the same thing. None of us is clean of sin.
Beggar[sleepily]. Don't take me for a "pal."
[Sleeps on.]
Drunkard.Leave him alone. He sings hymns the whole day long.
Beggar.Poverty is no sin.
Drunkard.Don't mix in. [To the Prostitute.] What do dogs see at night?
Prostitute.They say that on the first of May the Holy Mother walks through the market place, and gathers all the stray souls.
Drunkard.What have the dogs got to do with it?
Prostitute.They are people laden with sins. People who died without the Holy Sacrament, and who were buried outside of the fence. At night they roam about the market in the shape of dogs. They run about in the stalls of the butchers. The devil, too, stays there, but when the first of May comes and the prayers begin, the Holy Mother walks through the market-place. The souls of the damned cling to her dress, and she takes them with her to Heaven.
[Pause for a minute.]
Beggar[turning in his sleep]. Strong vinegar bursts the cask. Her soul must be black indeed.
Drunkard.It's awful to look into it. You'll be among them yet....
Prostitute.I'm not afraid of that. The mercy of God is great. It will reach even me. But all of you will be among the dogs too. Those who live in the street come back to the street after death.
Beggar.The street is the home of the beggar. Poverty is no sin.
[Stretches himself and sleeps on. There is a pause. The Fool comes out of the darkness. He is tall, with a vacant, good-humored face, dressed in a soldier's hat, with a wooden toy-sword in his girdle. He grins kindly.]
Drunkard.Ah, good evening, Napoleon. [He salutes the Fool.] Where do you hail from?
Fool[grins and chuckles]. From Turkey. I have driven out the Turk.
Drunkard.And where is your army?
Fool.I have left it on the Vistula.
Drunkard.And when will you drive the Russians out of there?
Fool.I have given my orders already.
Drunkard.Are they being carried out?
Fool.I only need to draw my sword.
Drunkard.Your sword?
Fool.Napoleon gave it to me.
Prostitute.Leave him be. Every one is crazy in his way. [To the fool.] You are cold. Come to the fire. He wanders about the hollows the whole night long.
Fool[smiles]. I've quartered all of my soldiers, but I have no place for myself to sleep in.
Prostitute.A fool, and yet he knows what he says. [Gives him bread.] Do you want to eat?
Fool.I get my dinner from the tables of Kings.
Beggar[awaking]. You've brought the fool here too? He's got the whole market place to be crazy in, and he comes here, where honest people sleep.
[Takes his stick and tries to reach the Fool.]
Prostitute[defending the Fool]. Leave him alone I tell you. Crazy though he be, he still wants to be among people. Like aches for like.
Beggar.Let him go to the graveyard, and yell his craziness out among the graves;—and not disturb honest men in their sleep. The street is the beggar's home, and I don't want to share it with madmen. All that the people throw out of their homes, wanders into the street.
[He chases the Fool away, and lies down.]
Drunkard.Who made you boss here? The street belongs to all. Lie down in the city hall, in the mayor's bed, if you want to have rest.
Prostitute.Keep still. He has a right to the place. He's had it long enough.
Drunkard.What kind of a right? Are you a newcomer? How long have you been here?
Prostitute.All my life. I was born in the street, there, behind the fence near the church. My mother pointed out the place to me. I have never known any other home, but the street. In the daytime it belongs to all. When people open their shops, and peasants come in their wagons, and trade begins, I feel a stranger here, and I hide in the fields near the cemetery. But when night comes, and people retire into their holes, then the street is mine. I know every nook and corner of the market place. It is my home.
Drunkard.You've said it well. In that house there, I have a home, a bed, and a wife. In the daytime I work there. I sit among boots, and drive nails into heels and soles. And I bear my wife's nagging and cursing patiently.... But when night comes I can't stand it any longer. The house becomes too small for me. Something draws me into the street.
Prostitute.It is the curse of the street that rests on you as it does on the howling dogs. All of us are damned, and we are punished here for our sins. And we will not be delivered, till the Holy Mother will come, and we will take hold of her dress, and our souls will be freed.
Beggar[in his sleep]. He-he-he. Ha-ha-ha.
Drunkard[becomes sad, bows his head]. In the daytime I don't mind it. Then I am like other people. I work like all do. But when night comes....
Prostitute.It's the curse of the street. Don't worry. God will pity all of us. His mercy is great.
[The cry of a child comes from the distance. It resembles the howling of a dog.]
Drunkard.What's that?
Prostitute.That's Manka's bastard. He strays the street. He wants to come near the fire.
Drunkard.Call him here.
Prostitute.Keep still. [She points to the Beggar.] He will chase the boy away. They believe the boy is born of the Devil.
Drunkard.Who made him boss here? All of us are children of the Devil. [He calls to the boy as one calls to a dog.] Come here, you.
[A dumb boy, all in rags, drags himself near. He makes noises like a little beast. He trembles with cold. The Prostitute tries to quiet him.]
Prostitute.He lies the whole night behind his mother's doorstep. She is afraid of her husband. Sometimes she gives him a piece of bread, when no one looks. Thus he crawls like a worm in the street—human flesh and blood.
Drunkard.Let him come near the fire—so. [He pushes the boy nearer to the fire.] Give him a piece of bread. I'll take care of any one who tries to hurt him.
Beggar[awaking]. No. That's too much. Who brought this here? You know that the Devil is in him?
[Tries to chase the boy away.]
Prostitute[hiding the boy in her shawl]. Have pity.
Beggar.You're the Devil's wife. That's why you pity his child.
[Tries to reach the boy.]
Drunkard[tears the stick from the Beggar's hand]. We're all the children of the Devil. You've no more on your hide than he has.
Beggar.Don't you start anything. I am a Christian, and believe in God. I've no home. That's why I sleep on the street. Every dog finds his hole. But I won't live together with the Devil. And I won't be the neighbor of a harlot either. Nor was a drunkard ever a friend of mine. [He gathers his belongings.] What are you running after me for? This whole street belongs to the Devil. Why are you trying to stop me?
[He tries to go away.]
Prostitute[detaining him]. Don't leave us. Let him only warm himself. He'll go away.
Beggar.It does me little honor to be with folk like you anyway.
[He goes away.]
Drunkard.Why do you hold him back? Let him go if he thinks us below his dignity.
Prostitute.And do you really think it an honor for one to remain with you? That man is decent at least.
Drunkard.Ah, you grow pious as you grow old.
Prostitute.I have always wanted to be in decent company.
[As the Beggar disappears, strange figures begin to show themselves in the darkness. Most of them are half-naked. The Fool also comes back. A dog comes wandering into the crowd.]
Prostitute[looking around in terror]. It's awful to be with so many sick people. Not one amongst them who is of sound mind. Not one who has a clean conscience. The Beggar has gone away.
Drunkard[with fear]. The dogs have also come to the fire.
Prostitute.Even they are drawn to people.
[There is a short pause. The Bastard begins to wail.]
Drunkard.What's the trouble with him? Take him away.
Prostitute.That's the Devil in him crying—see him gazing at something.
[The day begins to grow gray in the east. Strange, awful light falls over all. Now one, now another corner of the street appears and disappears. All is covered with shadows as in twilight.]
Drunkard.Praised be God. The dawn.
Prostitute.How different the light is to-day.
[The dogs begin to howl.]
Drunkard.What are the dogs howling about? Chase them away from the fire.
Prostitute.They are looking somewheres. They sniff at the air. They must see something now.
[In the distance is heard the sound of beating against tin plates. The dogs howl with fright.]
Prostitute.Something is coming near to us.
[The Fool laughs.]
Drunkard.What is the Fool laughing at? What is he gazing at? Chase him away from the fire.
Prostitute.They all see more clearly than we.
[The dogs howl again, and gather in one group. Footsteps approach.]
Drunkard[frightened]. Something is coming near to us.
[A minute's pause. All waiting in fear. The Thief appears. He carries a woman on his shoulders. The woman has a child in her arms. They are followed by small, poorly clad boys who hold trumpets and kettles in their hands, and make as much noise as they can.]
Thief[thunders]. Fall on your knees. Draw off your hats! Do you see who is coming? The queen! The queen! [All grow pale, and move aside. The Thief walks into their midst.] Who is there? Ah, the Fool. Well, how are your armies getting along? Hold them in readiness. Hold them in readiness. The Drunkard! Ah, the right man for the game. [He bows.] With awe do I kiss the little hand of Madame Prostitute. [To the Bastard]: And your little heir is here also? [To the woman]: Take them with you, oh, Queen. They too are dogs like us, thrown into the street. Let them come with us, We have room for many, many.
Woman.Take them with us, my man. We will all go together.
Thief[letting the Woman down]. Our company is growing big. Come with us.
Drunkard[awaking from his torpor and looking at the Thief]. So you are the thief they let out of prison not long ago. And I was afraid of you a little while ago. [He spits.] That's a fine joke. Always at your play. Who's the woman, and the children? Where did you get them?
Thief.Brother, this is not play. [He points to the Woman.] She is a queen. [He points to the children.] And they are princes. Every one a prince. At your knees before her! Take off your hat.
Drunkard.I know this gentleman quite well. He likes to joke.
[The Thief comes close to him.]
Thief.To-night is the night when the dogs are delivered. Look at her. [He points at the Woman.] Look at us. We were locked in, and we have come out. We are all one family—dogs. We wander on the street. Men have shut their doors in our faces. Come, dogs. We will unite to-day. Throw off your chains, and shake yourself as if you were shaking dust from your shoulders. You are men after all. I have known you from childhood. I knew your mother.
Drunkard[wondering]. I don't know what you mean.
Thief.Look at yourself. What have they made of you? You walk the street all night like an outcast. Your children are afraid of you. They hide when they see you drunk on the street, and weep for you. Are you to blame for it? You were made one with a mass of flesh you hate. You sit bent over your boots the whole day long, and curses and blows are hurled at your head. And when night comes you crawl in the gutter, and you will crawl there till you will be freed from shame.
Drunkard.What are you telling me this for?
Thief.And are you to blame for this? Have you had one minute of happiness in your whole life? Who took care of you? You were raised by your stepfather's cane. Show me the scars on your body. They beat you from childhood on; first your stepfather, then your "step-wife." No one ever spoke to you as to a friend. No one ever comforted you in your grief.
[The Drunkard falls to the ground and weeps.]
Thief[to the Woman]. And he is an honest man. I know him. We went to the same school. He had an honest mother. She loved him only as a mother can. [Whispering to the Woman.] She brought him bread behind his stepfather's back.
Drunkard.I will never drink again. I give my word of honor.
[He weeps.]
Thief.Don't cry, brother. We are all dogs of the street. But we unite to-day. Come with us, come. We will care for you. We will all be together. Take the Prostitute, and come with us.
[The old Prostitute rises and looks amazed.]
Prostitute.Me?
Thief[taking her hand]. We will not turn you, nor avoid you. We know what you are. You are not to blame. Who brought you up? Who was your mother? You were born in the street like a goat. Every stone, every hole in the earth caresses you like a mother. You were thrown into the street at birth, and men ran from you as from a leper. Any wonder that this is what became of you? You lay in the street like an old, dirty rag.
Prostitute[half-crying]. I am not worthy of such comforting words by a gentleman.
Thief.You are worthy. You are like all of us. Your skin is dirty, but your soul is clean. Wash your sins away, throw the curse from off your shoulders, and you will become a human being like all of us. You too long for people. I know you. You are good, you love humanity. It is they who have cursed you so. You were always a clean child. Wait. Wait. [He takes water from the well, and pours it on her.] I wash your head, and you are a human being like the rest of us. The curse is removed from you. Look around yourself. Spring is here. Its fragrance is everywhere. You are a girl yet, a mere child. You know no wickedness. You are in your father's garden. Your mother sits near the window and looks at you. You are walking with your beloved.
[He takes the Drunkard, puts him side by side with the Prostitute, joins their hands, and leads them back and forth.]
Prostitute[smiles]. Don't talk to me like that.
Thief.You are being married now. Virgins come and bring you your bridal dress, your veil, your myrtle wreath. You are chaste. They lead you to the altar. Your mother lays her hand on your head and blesses you. Sweet harp music is heard. Your bridegroom takes his place beside you.
[The Prostitute breaks out into tears.]
Drunkard[excited]. I will be together with her. I will defend her. I will not let them insult her. She is my sister. I will work for her.
Thief.That's the way. The dogs unite to-day. [He takes the Bastard in his arms and kisses him on the forehead.] And, he, too, is our child. All of us are dogs of the street. All of us unite to-day.
Drunkard[takes the boy from the Thief]. He is our child. He will be with us. [He takes the arm of the Prostitute.] Come, we will go together. I will work for you. You will bring him up, and he will be our child. [He takes the shawl from the Prostitute, and wraps himself and the boy in it.] What? You do not hear? Listen. I mean it with my whole heart.
[The Prostitute does not hear. She looks with awe at the Woman.]
Thief.That's the way. That's the way. That's the way. To-day we unite. We go together. We will be one with the dogs. [He caresses all he finds on the street.] Blow the trumpets, boys. Beat the drums. We choose a queen to-day. [To the Fool.] The army waits for you, with swords in their hands, with spears ready. Do you see the cannon all trained? All wait for your command. Do you see the foe around you? [He points to the street with a broad majestic gesture.] Here stands the army.
Fool[happily]. Yes, yes.
Thief.Give your order, Napoleon. You are our general. Draw the sword, and command!
Fool[draws his wooden sword and cries loudly as if he saw an army in the market-place]. Present arms!
Thief[loudly]. That's the way. The dogs unite to-day. All will unite. We choose a queen to-day. [He points to the Woman.] She is worthy of wearing the crown of the street. Come, queen. Mount to your throne. [He bends his back.] Boys, blow your trumpets. Beat your drums. At your knees. All hats off. The queen comes. The queen comes. So will we go to our land.
[It is grown lighter. The face of the Woman has grown young and beautiful, and begins to look like the face of the Holy Mother.]
Prostitute[who has looked at the Woman with awe, recognizes her in the gray light, as she sits on the Thief's shoulders with the child in her arms. She falls to her knees before her, and cries in an unearthly voice]. Oh, see, see. It is the Holy Mother. Look at her—her face. She has come from the church. Oh, it is the holy picture before which I always pray. I know her. Our Holy Mother in her very flesh. [She gives a great cry, and falls prostrate before the Woman.] Oh, Mother, Mother, take me under Thy protection. [She falls prostrate, unable to talk any more. The others are infected with the spirit of her words. They look with fear at the Woman's face. They recognize the Madonna. They bend half-ways on their knees. The Thief, who has let her down from his shoulders, takes off his hat and kneels with the rest. All prostrate themselves. There is the sound of a church-bell. It is day. From the open window of a house across the way, leans out the wife of the Drunkard, and yells.] Ah, ah, what are you doing there. Come into the house. There is work to be done.
Drunkard[roused from his ecstasy, tears his hand away from that of the Prostitute, and looks at the Woman with the Thief.] Ha-ha-ha. That's Helenka, Andrey the Plasterer's wife. Ha-ha-ha. He's cracked a good joke.
[He runs away. The others awake as if from sleep. The Prostitute suddenly rises. Helenka tries to escape from the Thief's hands.]
Helenka.Why did you drag me into the street?
Thief[holding her hand.] Come with me. Remember what we said. Come to another land with me.
Helenka[weeping]. What does he want with me? Why did he drag me into the street? Come home, children.
[All run from him.]
Thief[stands near the well, and thunders after them]. Dogs, where are you running?... You dogs, you damned dogs.... [Townspeople come to the well with pails, grumbling.] Get out of the way....
[Curtain.]
Copyright, 1916, by L. E. Bassett.All rights reserved.