When We Dead Awaken | Page 8

[Moving her chair back.] Shot them dead?
ULFHEIM.
[Nods.] I never miss, madam.
MAIA.
But how can you possibly shoot people!
ULFHEIM.
I am not speaking of people---
MAIA.
You said your nearest friends---
ULFHEIM.
Well, who should they be but my dogs?
MAIA.
Are your dogs your nearest friends?

ULFHEIM.
I have none nearer. My honest, trusty, absolutely loyal comrades--.
When one of them turns sick and miserable--bang!--and there's my
friend sent packing--to the other world.
[The SISTER OF MERCY comes out of the hotel with a tray on which
is bread and milk. She places it on the table outside the pavilion, which
she enters.
ULFHEIM.
[Laughs scornfully.] That stuff there--is that what you call food for
human beings! Milk and water and soft, clammy bread. Ah, you should
see my comrades feeding. Should you like to see it?
MAIA.
[Smiling across to the PROFESSOR and rising.] Yes, very much.
ULFHEIM.
[Also rising.] Spoken like a woman of spirit, madam! Come with me,
then! They swallow whole great thumping meat-bones--gulp them up
and then gulp them down again. Oh, it's a regular treat to see them.
Come along and I'll show you--and while we're about it, we can talk
over this trip to the mountains---
[He goes out by the corner of the hotel, MAIA following him.
[Almost at the same moment the STRANGE LADY comes out of the
pavilion and seats herself at the table.
[The LADY raises her glass of milk and is about to drink, but stops and
looks across at RUBEK with vacant, expressionless eyes.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Remains sitting at his table and gazes fixedly and earnestly at her. At
last he rises, goes some steps towards her, stops, and says in a low
voice.] I know you quite well, Irene.
THE LADY.
[In a toneless voice, setting down her glass.] You can guess who I am,
Arnold?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Without answering.] And you recognise me, too, I see.
THE LADY.
With you it is quite another matter.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
With me?--How so?

THE LADY.
Oh, you are still alive.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Not understanding.] Alive---?
THE LADY.
[After a short pause.] Who was the other? The woman you had with
you--there at the table?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[A little reluctantly.] She? That was my--my wife.
THE LADY.
[Nods slowly.] Indeed. That is well, Arnold. Some one, then, who does
not concern me---
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Nods.] No, of course not---
THE LADY.
--one whom you have taken to you after my lifetime.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Suddenly looking hard at her.] After your--? What do you mean by
that, Irene?
IRENE.
[Without answering.] And the child? I hear the child is prospering too.
Our child survives me--and has come to honour and glory.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Smiles as at a far-off recollection.] Our child? Yes, we called it
so--then.
IRENE.
In my lifetime, yes.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Trying to take a lighter tone.] Yes, Irene.--I can assure you "our child"
has become famous all the wide world over. I suppose you have read
about it.
IRENE.
[Nods.] And has made its father famous too.--That was your dream.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[More softly, with emotion.] It is to you I owe everything, everything,
Irene--and I thank you.
IRENE.

[Lost in thought for a moment.] If I had then done what I had a right to
do, Arnold---
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Well? What then?
IRENE.
I should have killed that child.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Killed it, you say?
IRENE.
[Whispering.] Killed it--before I went away from you. Crushed it--
crushed it to dust.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Shakes his head reproachfully.] You would never have been able to,
Irene. You had not the heart to do it.
IRENE.
No, in those days I had not that sort of heart.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
But since then? Afterwards?
IRENE.
Since then I have killed it innumerable times. By daylight and in the
dark. Killed it in hatred--and in revenge--and in anguish.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Goes close up to the table and asks softly.] Irene--tell me now at
last--after all these years--why did you go away from me? You
disappeared so utterly--left not a trace behind---
IRENE.
[Shaking her head slowly.] Oh Arnold--why should I tell you that
now-- from the world beyond the grave.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Was there some one else whom you had come to love?
IRENE.
There was one who had no longer any use for my love--any use for my
life.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[Changing the subject.] H'm--don't let us talk any more of the past---
IRENE.
No, no--by all means let us not talk of what is beyond the grave--what

is now beyond the grave for me.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Where have you been, Irene? All my inquiries were fruitless--you
seemed to have vanished away.
IRENE.
I went into the darkness--when the child stood transfigured in the light.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Have you travelled