The Road to Damascus | Page 9

mourning for an uncle who had taken his life. Now you know
my family! That's the stock I come from. Once I narrowly escaped
fourteen years' hard labour--so I've every reason to thank the elves,
though I can't be altogether pleased with what they've done.
LADY. I like to hear you talk. But don't speak of the elves: it makes me
sad.
STRANGER. Frankly, I don't believe in them; yet they're always
making themselves felt. Are these elves the souls of the unhappy, who
still await redemption? If so, I am the child of an evil spirit. Once I
believed I was near redemption--through a woman. But no mistake
could have been greater: I was plunged into the seventh hell.
LADY. You must be unhappy. But this won't go on always.
STRANGER. Do you think church bells and Holy Water could comfort
me? I've tried them; they only made things worse. I felt like the Devil
when he sees the sign of the cross. (Pause.) Let's talk about you now.
LADY. There's no need. (Pause.) Have you been blamed for misusing
your gifts?
STRANGER. I've been blamed for everything. In the town I lived in no
one was so hated as I. Lonely I came in and lonely I went out. If I
entered a public place people avoided me. If I wanted to rent a room, it
would be let. The priests laid a ban on me from the pulpit, teachers
from their desks and parents in their homes. The church committee
wanted to take my children from me. Then I blasphemously shook my
fist ... at heaven!
LADY. Why did they hate you so?
STRANGER. How should I know! Yet I do! I couldn't endure to see
men suffer. So I kept on saying, and writing, too: free yourselves, I will
help you. And to the poor I said: do not let the rich exploit you. And to

the women: do not allow yourselves to be enslaved by the men.
And--worst of all--to the children: do not obey your parents, if they are
unjust. What followed was impossible to foresee. I found that everyone
was against me: rich and poor, men and women, parents and children.
And then came sickness and poverty, beggary and shame, divorce,
law-suits, exile, solitude, and now. ... Tell me, do you think me mad?
LADY. No.
STRANGER. You must be the only one. But I'm all the more grateful.
LADY (rising). I must leave you now.
STRANGER. You, too?
LADY. And you mustn't stay here.
STRANGER. Where should I go?
LADY. Home. To your work.
STRANGER. But I'm no worker. I'm a writer.
LADY. I know. But I didn't want to hurt you. Creative power is
something given you, that can also taken away. See you don't forfeit
yours.
STRANGER. Where are you going?
LADY. Only to a shop.
STRANGER (after a pause). Tell me, are you a believer?
LADY. I am nothing.
STRANGER. All the better: you have a future. How I wish I were your
old blind father, whom you could lead to the market place to sing for
his bread. My tragedy is I cannot grow old that's what happens to
children of the elves, they have big heads and never only cry. I wish I

were someone's dog. I could follow him and never be alone again. I'd
get a meal sometimes, a kick now and then, a pat perhaps, a blow
often. ...
LADY. Now I must go. Good-bye. (She goes out.)
STRANGER (absent-mindedly). Good-bye. (He remains on the seat.
He takes off his hat and wipes his forehead. Then he draws on the
ground with his stick. A BEGGAR enters. He has a strange look and is
collecting objects from the gutter.) White are you picking up, beggar?
BEGGAR. Why call me that? I'm no beggar. Have I asked you for
anything?
STRANGER. I beg your pardon. It's so hard to judge men from
appearances.
BEGGAR. That's true. For instance, can you guess who I am?
STRANGER. I don't intend to try. It doesn't interest me.
BEGGAR. No one can know that in advance. Interest commonly comes
afterwards--when it's too late. Virtus post nummos!
STRANGER. What? Do beggars know Latin?
BEGGAR. You see, you're interested already. Omne tulit punctum qui
miscuit utile dulci. I have always succeeded in everything I've
undertaken, because I've never attempted anything. I should like to call
myself Polycrates, who found the gold ring in the fish's stomach. Life
has given me all I asked of it. But I never asked anything; I grew tired
of success and threw the ring away. Yet, now I've grown old I regret it.
I search for it in the gutters; but as the search takes time, in default of
my gold ring I don't disdain a few cigar