weeks later.
ACT II
SCENE I—A flat in the same ward. A morning two years later.
SCENE II—The same. At twilight some months later.
SCENE III—The same. A night some months later.
ACT I
ACT ONE
SCENE ONE
SCENE—_A corner in lower New York, at the edge of a colored district.
Three narrow streets converge. A triangular building in the rear,
red brick, four-storied, its ground floor a grocery. Four-story
tenements stretch away down the skyline of the two streets. The
fire escapes are crowded with people. In the street leading left,
the faces are all white; in the street leading right, all black.
It is hot Spring. On the sidewalk are eight children, four boys
and four girls. Two of each sex are white, two black. They are
playing marbles. One of the black boys is_ JIM HARRIS. _The little
blonde girl, her complexion rose and white, who sits behind his
elbow and holds his marbles is_ ELLA DOWNEY. _She is eight. They
play the game with concentrated attention for a while. People
pass, black and white, the Negroes frankly participants in the
spirit of Spring, the whites laughing constrainedly, awkward in
natural emotion. Their words are lost. One only hears their
laughter. It expresses the difference in race. There are street
noises—the clattering roar of the Elevated, the puff of its
locomotives, the ruminative lazy sound of a horse-car, the hooves
of its team clacking on the cobbles. From the street of the whites
a high-pitched, nasal tenor sings the chorus of “Only a Bird in a
Gilded Cage.” On the street of the blacks a Negro strikes up the
chorus of: “I Guess I’ll Have to Telegraph My Baby.” As this
singing ends, there is laughter, distinctive in quality, from both
streets. Then silence. The light in the street begins to grow
brilliant with the glow of the setting sun. The game of marbles
goes on._
WHITE GIRL—[_Tugging at the elbow of her brother._] Come on, Mickey!
HER BROTHER—[_Roughly._] Aw, gwan, youse!
WHITE GIRL—Aw right, den. You kin git a lickin’ if you wanter. [_Gets up
to move off._]
HER BROTHER—Aw, git off de eart’!
WHITE GIRL—De old woman’ll be madder’n hell!
HER BROTHER—[_Worried now._] I’m comin’, ain’t I? Hold your horses.
BLACK GIRL—[_To a black boy._] Come on, you Joe. We gwine git frailed
too, you don’t hurry.
JOE—Go long!
MICKEY—Bust up de game, huh? I gotta run! [_Jumps to his feet._]
OTHER WHITE BOY—Me, too! [_Jumps up._]
OTHER BLACK GIRL—Lawdy, it’s late!
JOE—Me for grub!
MICKEY—[_To_ JIM HARRIS.] You’s de winner, Jim Crow. Yeh gotta play
tomorrer.
JIM—[_Readily._] Sure t’ing, Mick. Come one, come all! [_He laughs._]
OTHER WHITE BOY—Me too! I gotta git back at yuh.
JIM—Aw right, Shorty.
LITTLE GIRLS—Hurry! Come on, come on! [_The six start off together. Then
they notice that_ JIM _and_ ELLA _are hesitating, standing awkwardly and
shyly together. They turn to mock._]
JOE—Look at dat Jim Crow! Land sakes, he got a gal! [_He laughs. They
all laugh._]
JIM—[_Ashamed._] Ne’er mind, you Chocolate!
MICKEY—Look at de two softies, will yeh! Mush! Mush! [_He and the two
other boys take this up._]
LITTLE GIRLS—[_Pointing their fingers at_ ELLA.] Shame! Shame! Everybody
knows your name! Painty Face! Painty Face!
ELLA—[_Hanging her head._] Shut up!
LITTLE WHITE GIRL—He’s been carrying her books!
COLORED GIRL—Can’t you find nuffin better’n him, Ella? Look at de big
feet he got! [_She laughs. They all laugh._ JIM _puts one foot on top of
the other, looking at_ ELLA.]
ELLA—Mind yer own business, see! [_She strides toward them angrily. They
jump up and dance in an ecstasy, screaming and laughing._]
ALL—Found yeh out! Found yeh out!
MICKEY—Mush-head! Jim Crow de Sissy! Stuck on Painty Face!
JOE—Will Painty Face let you hold her doll, boy?
SHORTY—Sissy! Softy! [ELLA _suddenly begins to cry. At this they all
howl._]
ALL—Cry-baby! Cry-baby! Look at her! Painty Face!
JIM—[_Suddenly rushing at them, with clenched fists, furiously._] Shut
yo’ moufs! I kin lick de hull of you! [_They all run away, laughing,
shouting, and jeering, quite triumphant now that they have made him,
too, lose his temper. He comes back to_ ELLA, _and stands beside her
sheepishly, stepping on one foot after the other. Suddenly he blurts
out_:] Don’t bawl no more. I done chased ’em.
ELLA—[_Comforted, politely._] T’anks.
JIM—[_Swelling out._] It was a cinch. I kin wipe up de street wid any
one of dem. [_He stretches out his arms, trying to bulge out his
biceps._] Feel dat muscle!
ELLA—[_Does so gingerly—then with admiration._] My!
JIM—[_Protectingly._] You mustn’t never be scared when I’m hanging
round, Painty Face.
ELLA—Don’t call me that, Jim—please!
JIM—[_Contritely._] I didn’t mean nuffin’. I didn’t know you’d mind.
ELLA—I do—more’n anything.
JIM—You oughtn’t to mind. Dey’s jealous, dat’s what.
ELLA—Jealous? Of what?
JIM—[_Pointing to her face._] Of dat. Red ‘n’ white. It’s purty.
ELLA—I hate it!
JIM—It’s purty. Yes, it’s—it’s purty. It’s—outa sight!
ELLA—I hate it. I wish I was black like you.
JIM—[_Sort of shrinking._] No you don’t. Dey’d call you Crow, den—or
Chocolate—or Smoke.
ELLA—I wouldn’t mind.
JIM—[_Somberly._] Dey’d call you nigger sometimes, too.
ELLA—I wouldn’t mind.
JIM—[_Humbly._] You wouldn’t mind?
ELLA—No, I wouldn’t mind. [_An awkward pause._]
JIM—[_Suddenly._] You know what, Ella? Since I been tuckin’ yo’ books to
school and back, I been drinkin’ lots o’ chalk ‘n’ water tree times a
day. Dat Tom, de barber, he tole me dat make me white, if I drink
enough. [_Pleadingly._] Does I look whiter?
ELLA—[_Comfortingly._] Yes—maybe—a little bit——
JIM—[_Trying a careless tone._] Reckon dat Tom’s a liar, an’ de joke’s
on me! Dat chalk only makes me feel kinder sick inside.
ELLA—[_Wonderingly._] Why do you want to be white?
JIM—Because—just because—I lak dat better.
ELLA—I wouldn’t. I like black. Let’s you and me swap. I’d like to be
black. [_Clapping her hands._] Gee, that’d be fun, if we only could!
JIM—[_Hesitatingly._] Yes—maybe——
ELLA—Then they’d call me Crow, and you’d be Painty Face!
JIM—They wouldn’t never dast call you nigger, you bet! I’d kill ’em! [_A
long pause. Finally she takes his hand shyly. They both keep looking as
far away from each other as possible._]
ELLA—I like you.
JIM—I like you.
ELLA—Do you want to be my feller?
JIM—Yes.
ELLA—Then I’m your girl.
JIM—Yes. [_Then grandly._] You kin bet none o’ de gang gwine call you
Painty Face from dis out! I lam’ ’em good! [_The sun has set. Twilight
has fallen on the street. An organ grinder comes up to the corner and
plays “Annie Rooney.” They stand hand-in-hand and listen. He goes away.
It is growing dark._]
ELLA—[_Suddenly._] Golly, it’s late! I’ll git a lickin’!
JIM—Me, too.
ELLA—I won’t mind it much.
JIM—Me nuther.
ELLA—See you going to school tomorrow?
JIM—Sure.
ELLA—I gotta skip now.
JIM—Me, too.
ELLA—I like you, Jim.
JIM—I like you.
ELLA—Don’t forget.
JIM—Don’t you.
ELLA—Good-by.
JIM—So long. [_They run away from each other—then stop abruptly, and
turn as at a signal._]
ELLA—Don’t forget.
JIM—I won’t, you bet!
ELLA—Here! [_She kisses her hand at him, then runs off in frantic
embarrassment._]
JIM—[_Overcome._] Gee! [_Then he turns and darts away, as_
[_The Curtain Falls_]
ACT ONE
SCENE TWO
SCENE—_The same corner. Nine years have passed. It is again late
Spring at a time in the evening which immediately follows the hour
of_ SCENE ONE. _Nothing has changed much. One street is still all
white, the other all black. The fire escapes are laden with
drooping human beings. The grocery store is still at the corner.
The street noises are now more rhythmically mechanical,
electricity having taken the place of horse and steam. People
pass, white and black. They laugh as in_ SCENE ONE. _From the
street of the whites the high-pitched nasal tenor sings: “Gee, I
Wish That I Had a Girl,” and the Negro replies with “All I Got Was
Sympathy.” The singing is followed again by laughter from both
streets. Then silence. The dusk grows darker. With a spluttering
flare the arc-lamp at the corner is lit and sheds a pale glare
over the street. Two young roughs slouch up to the corner, as
tough in manner as they can make themselves. One is the_ SHORTY
_of_ SCENE ONE; _the other the Negro_, JOE. _They stand loafing. A
boy of seventeen or so passes by, escorting a girl of about the
same age. Both are dressed in their best, the boy in black with
stiff collar, the girl in white._
SHORTY—[_Scornfully._] Hully cripes! Pipe who’s here. [_To the girl,
sneeringly._] Wha’s matter, Liz? Don’t yer recernize yer old fr’ens?
GIRL—[_Frightenedly._] Hello, Shorty.
SHORTY—Why de glad rags? Goin’ to graduation? [_He tries to obstruct
their way, but, edging away from him, they turn and run._]
JOE—Har-har! Look at dem scoot, will you! [SHORTY _grins with
satisfaction_.]
SHORTY—[_Looking down other street._] Here comes Mickey.
JOE—He won de semi-final last night easy?
SHORTY—Knocked de bloke out in de thoid.
JOE—Dat boy’s suah a-comin’! He’ll be de champeen yit.
SHORTY—[_Judicially._] Got a good chanct—if he leaves de broads alone.
Dat’s where he’s wide open. [MICKEY _comes in from the left. He is
dressed loudly, a straw hat with a gaudy band cocked over one
cauliflower ear. He has acquired a typical “pug’s” face, with the added
viciousness of a natural bully. One of his eyes is puffed, almost
closed, as a result of his battle the night before. He swaggers up._]
BOTH—Hello, Mickey.
MICKEY—Hello.
JOE—Hear you knocked him col’.
MICKEY—Sure. I knocked his block off. [_Changing the subject._] Say.
Seen ’em goin’ past to de graduation racket?
SHORTY—[_With a wink._] Why? You int’rested?
JOE—[_Chuckling._] Mickey’s gwine roun’ git a good conduct medal.
MICKEY—Sure. Dey kin pin it on de seat o’ me pants. [_They laugh._]
Listen. Seen Ella Downey goin’?
SHORTY—Painty Face? No, she ain’t been along.
MICKEY—[_With authority._] Can dat name, see! Want a bunch o’ fives in
yer kisser? Den nix! She’s me goil, understan’?
JOE—[_Venturing to joke._] Which one? Yo’ number ten?
MICKEY—[_Flattered._] Sure. De real K. O. one.
SHORTY— [_Pointing right—sneeringly._] Gee! Pipe Jim Crow all dolled up
for de racket.
JOE—[_With disgusted resentment._] You mean tell me dat nigger’s
graduatin’?
SHORTY—Ask him. [JIM HARRIS _comes in. He is dressed in black, stiff
white collar, etc.—a quiet-mannered Negro boy with a queerly-baffled,
sensitive face._]
JIM—[_Pleasantly._] Hello, fellows. [_They grunt in reply, looking over
him scornfully._]
JOE—[_Staring resentfully._] Is you graduatin’ tonight?
JIM—Yes.
JOE—[_Spitting disgustedly._] Fo’ Gawd’s sake! You _is_ gittin’
high-falutin’!
JIM—[_Smiling deprecatingly._] This is my second try. I didn’t pass last
year.
JOE—What de hell does it git you, huh? Whatever is you gwine do wid it
now you gits it? Live lazy on yo’ ol’ woman?
JIM—[_Assertively._] I’m going to study and become a lawyer.
JOE—[_With a snort._] Fo’ Chris’ sake, nigger!
JIM—[_Fiercely._] Don’t you call me that—not before them!
JOE—[_Pugnaciously._] Does you deny you’s a nigger? I shows you——
MICKEY—[_Gives them both a push—truculently._] Cut it out, see! I’m
runnin’ dis corner. [_Turning to_ JIM _insultingly._] Say, you! Painty
Face’s gittin’ her ticket tonight, ain’t she?
JIM—You mean Ella——
MICKEY—Painty Face Downey, dat’s who I mean! I don’t have to be perlite
wit’ her. She’s me goil!
JIM—[_Glumly._] Yes, she’s graduating.
SHORTY—[_Winks at_ MICKEY.] Smart, huh?
MICKEY—[_Winks back—meaningly._] Willin’ to loin, take it from me! [JIM
_stands tensely as if a struggle were going on in him._]
JIM—[_Finally blurts out._] I want to speak to you, Mickey—alone.
MICKEY—[_Surprised—insultingly._] Aw, what de hell——!
JIM—[_Excitedly._] It’s important, I tell you!
MICKEY—Huh? [_Stares at him inquisitively—then motions the others back
carelessly and follows_ JIM _down front_.]
SHORTY—Some noive!
JOE—[_Vengefully._] I gits dat Jim alone, you wait!
MICKEY—Well, spill de big news. I ain’t got all night. I got a date.
JIM—With—Ella?
MICKEY—What’s dat to you?
JIM—[_The words tumbling out._] What—I wanted to say! I know—I’ve
heard—all the stories—what you’ve been doing around the ward—with other
girls—it’s none of my business, with them—but she—Ella—it’s
different—she’s not that kind——
MICKEY—[_Insultingly._] Who told yuh so, huh?
JIM—[_Draws back his fist threateningly._] Don’t you dare—! [MICKEY _is
so paralyzed by this effrontery that he actually steps back_.]
MICKEY—Say, cut de comedy! [_Beginning to feel insulted._] Listen, you
Jim Crow! Ain’t you wise I could give yuh one poke dat’d knock yuh into
next week?
JIM—I’m only asking you to act square, Mickey.
MICKEY—What’s it to yuh? Why, yuh lousy goat, she wouldn’t spit on yuh
even! She hates de sight of a coon.
JIM—[_In agony._] I—I know—but once she didn’t mind—we were kids
together——
MICKEY—Aw, ferget dat! Dis is _now_!
JIM—And I’m still her friend always—even if she don’t like colored
people——
MICKEY—_Coons_, why don’t yuh say it right! De trouble wit’ you is
yuh’re gittin’ stuck up, dat’s what! Stay where yeh belong, see! Yer old
man made coin at de truckin’ game and yuh’re tryin’ to buy yerself
white—graduatin’ and law, for Hell’s sake! Yuh’re gittin’ yerself in
Dutch wit’ everyone in de ward—and it ain’t cause yer a coon neider.
Don’t de gang all train wit’ Joe dere and lots of others? But yuh’re
tryin’ to buy white and it won’t git yuh no place, see!
JIM—[_Trembling._] Some day—I’ll show you——
MICKEY—[_Turning away._] Aw, gwan!
JIM—D’you think I’d change—be you—your dirty white——!
MICKEY—[_Whirling about._] What’s dat?
JIM—[_With hysterical vehemence._] You act square with her—or I’ll show
you up—I’ll report you—I’ll write to the papers—the sporting
writers—I’ll let them know how white you are!
MICKEY—[_Infuriated._] Yuh damn nigger, I’ll bust yer jaw in! [_Assuming
his ring pose he weaves toward_ JIM, _his face set in a cruel scowl_.
JIM _waits helplessly but with a certain dignity_.]
SHORTY—Cheese it! A couple bulls! And here’s de Downey skoit comin’,
too.
MICKEY—I’ll get yuh de next time! [ELLA DOWNEY _enters from the right.
She is seventeen, still has the same rose and white complexion, is
pretty but with a rather repelling bold air about her._]
ELLA—[_Smiles with pleasure when she sees_ MICKEY.] Hello, Mick. Am I
late? Say, I’m so glad you won last night. [_She glances from one to the
other as she feels something in the air._] Hello! What’s up?
MICKEY—Dis boob. [_He indicates_ JIM _scornfully_.]
JIM—[_Diffidently._] Hello, Ella.
ELLA—[_Shortly, turning away._] Hello. [_Then to_ MICKEY.] Come on,
Mick. Walk down with me. I got to hurry.
JIM—[_Blurts out._] Wait—just a second. [_Painfully._] Ella, do you
hate—colored people?
MICKEY—Aw, shut up!
JIM—Please answer.
ELLA—[_Forcing a laugh._] Say! What is this—another exam?
JIM—[_Doggedly._] Please answer.
ELLA—[_Irritably._] Of course I don’t! Haven’t I been brought up
alongside—Why, some of my oldest—the girls I’ve been to public school
the longest with——
JIM—Do you hate me, Ella?
ELLA—[_Confusedly and more irritably._] Say, is he drunk? Why should I?
I don’t hate anyone.
JIM—Then why haven’t you ever hardly spoken to me—for years?
ELLA—[_Resentfully._] What would I speak about? You and me’ve got
nothing in common any more.
JIM—[_Desperately._] Maybe not any more—but—right on this corner—do you
remember once——?
ELLA—I don’t remember nothing! [_Angrily._] Say! What’s got into you to
be butting into my business all of a sudden like this? Because you
finally managed to graduate, has it gone to your head?
JIM—No, I—only want to help you, Ella.
ELLA—Of all the nerve! You’re certainly forgetting your place! Who’s
asking you for help, I’d like to know? Shut up and stop bothering me!
JIM—[_Insistently._] If you ever need a friend—a true friend——
ELLA—I’ve got lots of friends among my own—kind, I can tell you.
[_Exasperatedly._] You make me sick! Go to—hell! [_She flounces off. The
three men laugh._ MICKEY _follows her_. JIM _is stricken. He goes and
sinks down limply on a box in front of the grocery store._]
SHORTY—I’m going to shoot a drink. Come on, Joe, and I’ll blow yuh.
JOE—[_Who has never ceased to follow every move of_ JIM’S _with angry,
resentful eyes_.] Go long. I’se gwine stay here a secon’. I got a lil’
argyment. [_He points to_ JIM.]
SHORTY—Suit yerself. Do a good job. See yuh later. [_He goes,
whistling._]
JOE—[_Stands for a while glaring at_ JIM, _his fierce little eyes
peering out of his black face. Then he spits on his hands aggressively
and strides up to the oblivious_ JIM. _He stands in front of him,
gradually working himself into a fury at the other’s seeming
indifference to his words._] Listen to me, nigger: I got a heap to
whisper in yo’ ear! Who is you, anyhow? Who does you think you is? Don’t
yo’ old man and mine work on de docks togidder befo’ yo’ old man gits
his own truckin’ business? Yo’ ol’ man swallers his nickels, my ol’ man
buys him beer wid dem and swallers dat—dat’s the on’y diff’rence. Don’t
you ‘n’ me drag up togidder?
JIM—[_Dully._] I’m your friend, Joe.
JOE—No, you isn’t! I ain’t no fren o’ yourn! I don’t even know who you
is! What’s all dis schoolin’ you doin’? What’s all dis dressin’ up and
graduatin’ an’ sayin’ you gwine study be a lawyer? What’s all dis fakin’
an’ pretendin’ and swellin’ out grand an’ talkin’ soft and perlite?
What’s all dis denyin’ you’s a nigger—an’ wid de white boys listenin’ to
you say it! Is you aimin’ to buy white wid yo’ ol’ man’s dough like
Mickey say? What is you? [_In a rage at the other’s silence._] You don’t
talk? Den I takes it out o’ yo’ hide! [_He grabs_ JIM _by the throat
with one hand and draws the other fist back_.] Tell me befo’ I wrecks
yo’ face in! Is you a nigger or isn’t you? [_Shaking him._] Is you a
nigger, Nigger? Nigger, is you a nigger?
JIM—[_Looking into his eyes—quietly._] Yes. I’m a nigger. We’re both
niggers. [_They look at each other for a moment._ JOE’S _rage vanishes.
He slumps onto a box beside_ JIM’S. _He offers him a cigarette._ JIM
_takes it._ JOE _scratches a match and lights both their cigarettes_.]
JOE—[_After a puff, with full satisfaction._] Man, why didn’t you
’splain dat in de fust place?
JIM—We’re both niggers. [_The same hand-organ man of_ SCENE ONE _comes
to the corner. He plays the chorus of “Bonbon Buddie,” the “Chocolate
Drop.” They both stare straight ahead listening. Then the organ man goes
away. A silence._ JOE _gets to his feet_.]
JOE—I’ll go get me a cold beer. [_He starts to move off—then turns._]
Time you was graduatin’, ain’t it? [_He goes_, JIM _remains sitting on
his box staring straight before him as_
[_The Curtain Falls_]
ACT ONE
SCENE THREE
SCENE—_The same corner five years later. Nothing has changed much. It
is a night in Spring. The arc-lamp discovers faces with a
favorless cruelty. The street noises are the same but more
intermittent and dulled with a quality of fatigue. Two people
pass, one black and one white. They are tired. They both yawn, but
neither laughs. There is no laughter from the two streets. From
the street of the whites the tenor, more nasal than ever and a bit
drunken, wails in high barber-shop falsetto the last half of the
chorus of “When I Lost You.” The Negro voice, a bit maudlin in
turn, replies with the last half of “Waitin’ for the Robert E.
Lee.” Silence._ SHORTY _enters. He looks tougher than ever, the
typical gangster. He stands waiting, singing a bit drunkenly,
peering down the street._
SHORTY—[_Indignantly._] Yuh bum! Ain’t yuh ever comin’? [_He begins to
sing: “And sewed up in her yeller kimona, She had a blue-barreled
forty-five gun, For to get her man Who’d done her wrong.” Then he
comments scornfully._] Not her, dough! No gat for her. She ain’t got de
noive. A little sugar. Dat’ll fix her. [ELLA _enters. She is dressed
poorly, her face is pale and hollow-eyed, her voice cold and tired._]
SHORTY—Yuh got de message?
ELLA—Here I am.
SHORTY—How yuh been?
ELLA—All right. [_A pause. He looks at her puzzledly._]
SHORTY—[_A bit embarrassedly._] Well, I s’pose yuh’d like me to give yuh
some dope on Mickey, huh?
ELLA—No.
SHORTY—Mean to say yuh don’t wanter know where he is or what he’s doin’?
ELLA—No.
SHORTY—Since when?
ELLA—A long time.
SHORTY—[_After a pause—with a rat-like viciousness._] Between you’n me,
kid, you’ll get even soon—you’n all de odder dames he’s tossed. I’m on
de inside. I’ve watched him trainin’. His next scrap, watch it! He’ll
go! It won’t be de odder guy. It’ll be all youse dames he’s kidded—and
de ones what’s kidded him. Youse’ll all be in de odder guy’s corner. He
won’t need no odder seconds. Youse’ll trow water on him, and sponge his
face, and take de kinks out of his socker—and Mickey’ll catch it on de
button—and he won’t be able to take it no more—‘cause all your
weight—you and de odders—’ll be behind dat punch. Ha ha! [_He laughs an
evil laugh._] And Mickey’ll go—down to his knees first—[_He sinks to his
knees in the attitude of a groggy boxer._]
ELLA—I’d like to see him on his knees!
SHORTY—And den—flat on his pan—dead to de world—de boidies singin’ in de
trees—ten—out! [_He suits his action to the words, sinking flat on the
pavement, then rises and laughs the same evil laugh._]
ELLA—He’s been out—for me—a long time. [_A pause._] Why did you send for
me?
SHORTY—He sent me.
ELLA—Why?
SHORTY—To slip you this wad o’ dough. [_He reluctantly takes a roll of
bills from his pocket and holds it out to her._]
ELLA—[_Looks at the money indifferently._] What for?
SHORTY—For you.
ELLA—No.
SHORTY—For de kid den.
ELLA—The kid’s dead. He took diphtheria.
SHORTY—Hell yuh say! When?
ELLA—A long time.
SHORTY—Why didn’t you write Mickey——?
ELLA—Why should I? He’d only be glad.
SHORTY—[_After a pause._] Well—it’s better.
ELLA—Yes.
SHORTY—You made up wit yer family?
ELLA—No chance.
SHORTY—Livin’ alone?
ELLA—In Brooklyn.
SHORTY—Workin’?
ELLA—In a factory.
SHORTY—You’re a sucker. There’s lots of softer snaps fer you, kid——
ELLA—I know what you mean. No.
SHORTY—Don’t yuh wanter step out no more—have fun—live?
ELLA—I’m through.
SHORTY—[_Mockingly._] Jump in de river, huh? T’ink it over, baby. I kin
start yuh right in my stable. No one’ll bodder yuh den. I got influence.
ELLA—[_Without emphasis._] You’re a dirty dog. Why doesn’t someone kill
you?
SHORTY—Is dat so! What’re you? They say you been travelin’ round with
Jim Crow.
ELLA—He’s been my only friend.
SHORTY—A nigger!
ELLA—The only white man in the world! Kind and white. You’re all
black—black to the heart.
SHORTY—Nigger-lover! [_He throws the money in her face. It falls to the
street._] Listen, you! Mickey says he’s off of yuh for keeps. Dis is de
finish! Dat’s what he sent me to tell you. [_Glances at her
searchingly—a pause._] Yuh won’t make no trouble?
ELLA—Why should I? He’s free. The kid’s dead. I’m free. No hard
feelings—only—I’ll be there in spirit at his next fight, tell him! I’ll
take your tip—the other corner—second the punch—nine—ten—out! He’s free!
That’s all. [_She grins horribly at_ SHORTY.] Go away, Shorty.
SHORTY—[_Looking at her and shaking his head—maudlinly._] Groggy!
Groggy! We’re all groggy! Gluttons for punishment! Me for a drink. So
long. [_He goes. A Salvation Army band comes toward the corner. They are
playing and singing “Till We Meet at Jesus’ Feet.” They reach the end as
they enter and stop before_ ELLA. THE CAPTAIN _steps forward_.]
CAPTAIN—Sister——
ELLA—[_Picks up the money and drops it in his hat—mockingly._] Here. Go
save yourself. Leave me alone.
A WOMAN SALVATIONIST—Sister——-
ELLA—Never mind that. I’m not in your line—yet. [_As they hesitate,
wonderingly._] I want to be alone. [_To the thud of the big drum they
march off._ ELLA _sits down on a box, her hands hanging at her sides.
Presently_ JIM HARRIS _comes in. He has grown into a quietly-dressed,
studious-looking Negro with an intelligent yet queerly-baffled face._]
JIM—[_With a joyous but bewildered cry._] Ella! I just saw Shorty——
ELLA—[_Smiling at him with frank affection._] He had a message from
Mickey.
JIM—[_Sadly._] Ah!
ELLA—[_Pointing to the box behind her._] Sit down. [_He does so. A
pause—then she says indifferently._] It’s finished. I’m free, Jim.
JIM—[_Wearily._] We’re never free—except to do what we have to do.
ELLA—What are you getting gloomy about all of a sudden?
JIM—I’ve got the report from the school. I’ve flunked again.
ELLA—Poor Jim.
JIM—Don’t pity me. I’d like to kick myself all over the block. Five
years—and I’m still plugging away where I ought to have been at the end
of two.
ELLA—Why don’t you give it up?
JIM—No!
ELLA—After all, what’s being a lawyer?
JIM—A lot—to me—what it means. [_Intensely._] Why, if I was a Member of
the Bar right now, Ella, I believe I’d almost have the courage to——
ELLA—What?
JIM—Nothing. [_After a pause—gropingly._] I can’t explain—just—but it
hurts like fire. It brands me in my pride. I swear I know more’n any
member of my class. I ought to, I study harder. I work like the devil.
It’s all in my head—all fine and correct to a T. Then when I’m called
on—I stand up—all the white faces looking at me—and I can feel their
eyes—I hear my own voice sounding funny, trembling—and all of a sudden
it’s all gone in my head—there’s nothing remembered—and I hear myself
stuttering—and give up—sit down—— They don’t laugh, hardly ever. They’re
kind. They’re good people. [_In a frenzy._] They’re considerate, damn
them! But I feel branded!
ELLA—Poor Jim.
JIM—[_Going on painfully._] And it’s the same thing in the written
exams. For weeks before I study all night. I can’t sleep anyway. I learn
it all, I see it, I understand it. Then they give me the paper in the
exam room. I look it over, I know each answer—perfectly. I take up my
pen. On all sides are white men starting to write. They’re so sure—even
the ones that I know know nothing. But I know it all—but I can’t
remember any more—it fades—it goes—it’s gone. There’s a blank in my
head—stupidity—I sit like a fool fighting to remember a little bit here,
a little bit there—not enough to pass—not enough for anything—when I
know it all!
ELLA—[_Compassionately._] Jim. It isn’t worth it. You don’t need to——
JIM—I need it more than anyone ever needed anything. I need it to live.
ELLA—What’ll it prove?
JIM—Nothing at all much—but everything to me.
ELLA—You’re so much better than they are in every other way.
JIM—[_Looking up at her._] Then—you understand?
ELLA—Of course. [_Affectionately._] Don’t I know how fine you’ve been to
me! You’ve been the only one in the world who’s stood by me—the only
understanding person—and all after the rotten way I used to treat you.
JIM—But before that—way back so high—you treated me good. [_He smiles._]
ELLA—You’ve been white to me, Jim. [_She takes his hand._]
JIM—White—to you!
ELLA—Yes.
JIM—All love is white. I’ve always loved you. [_This with the deepest
humility._]
ELLA—Even now—after all that’s happened!
JIM—Always.
ELLA—I like you, Jim—better than anyone else in the world.
JIM—That’s more than enough, more than I ever hoped for. [_The organ
grinder comes to the corner. He plays the chorus of “Annie Laurie.” They
sit listening, hand in hand._] Would you ever want to marry me, Ella?
ELLA—Yes, Jim.
JIM—[_As if this quick consent alarmed him._] No, no, don’t answer now.
Wait! Turn it over in your mind! Think what it means to you! Consider
it—over and over again! I’m in no hurry, Ella. I can wait months—years——
ELLA—I’m alone. I’ve got to be helped. I’ve got to help someone—or it’s
the end—one end or another.
JIM—[_Eagerly._] Oh, I’ll help—I know I can help—I’ll give my life to
help you—that’s what I’ve been living for——
ELLA—But can I help you? Can I help you?
JIM—Yes! Yes! We’ll go abroad where a man is a man—where it don’t make
that difference—where people are kind and wise to see the soul under
skins. I don’t ask you to love me—I don’t dare to hope nothing like
that! I don’t want nothing—only to wait—to know you like me—to be near
you—to keep harm away—to make up for the past—to never let you suffer
any more—to serve you—to lie at your feet like a dog that loves you—to
kneel by your bed like a nurse that watches over you sleeping—to
preserve and protect and shield you from evil and sorrow—to give my life
and my blood and all the strength that’s in me to give you peace and
joy—to become your slave!—yes, be your slave—your black slave that
adores you as sacred! [_He has sunk to his knees. In a frenzy of
self-abnegation, as he says the last words he beats his head on the
flagstones._]
ELLA—[_Overcome and alarmed._] Jim! Jim! You’re crazy! I want to help
you, Jim—I want to help——
[_The Curtain Falls_]
ACT ONE
SCENE FOUR
SCENE—_Some weeks or so later. A street in the same ward in front of
an old brick church. The church sets back from the sidewalk in a
yard enclosed by a rusty iron railing with a gate at center. On
each side of this yard are tenements. The buildings have a stern,
forbidding look. All the shades on the windows are drawn down,
giving an effect of staring, brutal eyes that pry callously at
human beings without acknowledging them. Even the two tall, narrow
church windows on either side of the arched door are blanked with
dull green shades. It is a bright sunny morning. The district is
unusually still, as if it were waiting, holding its breath._
_From the street of the blacks to the right a Negro tenor sings in
a voice of shadowy richness—the first stanza with a contented,
childlike melancholy_—
Sometimes I feel like a mourning dove,
Sometimes I feel like a mourning dove,
I feel like a mourning dove.
_The second with a dreamy, boyish exultance_—
Sometimes I feel like an eagle in the air,
Sometimes I feel like an eagle in the air,
I feel like an eagle in the air.
_The third with a brooding, earthbound sorrow_—
Sometimes I wish that I’d never been born,
Sometimes I wish that I’d never been born,
I wish that I’d never been born.
_As the music dies down there is a pause of waiting stillness.
This is broken by one startling, metallic clang of the
church-bell. As if it were a signal, people—men, women,
children—pour from the two tenements, whites from the tenement to
the left, blacks from the one to the right. They hurry to form
into two racial lines on each side of the gate, rigid and
unyielding, staring across at each other with bitter hostile eyes.
The halves of the big church door swing open and_ JIM _and_ ELLA
_step out from the darkness within into the sunlight. The doors
slam behind them like wooden lips of an idol that has spat them
out._ JIM _is dressed in black._ ELLA _in white, both with extreme
plainness. They stand in the sunlight, shrinking and confused. All
the hostile eyes are now concentrated on them. They become aware
of the two lines through which they must pass; they hesitate and
tremble; then stand there staring back at the people as fixed and
immovable as they are. The organ grinder comes in from the right.
He plays the chorus of “Old Black Joe.” As he finishes the bell of
the church clangs one more single stroke, insistently dismissing._
JIM—[_As if the sound had awakened him from a trance, reaches out and
takes her hand._] Come. Time we got to the steamer. Time we sailed away
over the sea. Come, Honey! [_She tries to answer but her lips tremble;
she cannot take her eyes off the eyes of the people; she is unable to
move. He sees this and, keeping the same tone of profound, affectionate
kindness, he points upward in the sky, and gradually persuades her eyes
to look up._] Look up, Honey! See the sun! Feel his warm eye lookin’
down! Feel how kind he looks! Feel his blessing deep in your heart, your
bones! Look up, Honey! [_Her eyes are fixed on the sky now. Her face is
calm. She tries to smile bravely back at the sun. Now he pulls her by
the hand, urging her gently to walk with him down through the yard and
gate, through the lines of people. He is maintaining an attitude to
support them through the ordeal only by a terrible effort, which
manifests itself in the hysteric quality of ecstasy which breaks into
his voice._] And look at the sky! Ain’t it kind and blue! Blue for hope.
Don’t they say blue’s for hope? Hope! That’s for us, Honey. All those
blessings in the sky! What’s it the Bible says? Falls on just and unjust
alike? No, that’s the sweet rain. Pshaw, what am I saying? All mixed up.
There’s no unjust about it. We’re all the same—equally just—under the
sky—under the sun—under God—sailing over the sea—to the other side of
the world—the side where Christ was born—the kind side that takes count
of the soul—over the sea—the sea’s blue, to——. Let’s not be late—let’s
get that steamer! [_They have reached the curb now, passed the lines of
people. She is looking up to the sky with an expression of trancelike
calm and peace. He is on the verge of collapse, his face twitching, his
eyes staring. He calls hoarsely_:] Taxi! Where is he? Taxi!
[_The Curtain Falls_]
ACT II
ACT TWO
SCENE ONE
SCENE—_Two years later. A flat of the better sort in the Negro
district near the corner of Act One. This is the parlor. Its
furniture is a queer clash. The old pieces are cheaply ornate,
naïvely, childishly gaudy—the new pieces give evidence of a taste
that is diametrically opposed, severe to the point of somberness.
On one wall, in a heavy gold frame, is a colored photograph—the
portrait of an elderly Negro with an able, shrewd face but dressed
in outlandish lodge regalia, a get-up adorned with medals, sashes,
a cocked hat with frills—the whole effect as absurd to contemplate
as one of Napoleon’s Marshals in full uniform. In the left corner,
where a window lights it effectively, is a Negro primitive mask
from the Congo—a grotesque face, inspiring obscure, dim
connotations in one’s mind, but beautifully done, conceived in a
true religious spirit. In this room, however, the mask acquires an
arbitrary accentuation. It dominates by a diabolical quality that
contrast imposes upon it._
_There are two windows on the left looking out in the street. In
the rear, a door to the hall of the building. In the right, a
doorway with red and gold portières leading into the bedroom and
the rest of the flat. Everything is cleaned and polished. The dark
brown wall paper is new, the brilliantly figured carpet also.
There is a round mahogany table at center. In a rocking chair by
the table_ MRS. HARRIS _is sitting. She is a mild-looking,
gray-haired Negress of sixty-five, dressed in an old-fashioned
Sunday-best dress. Walking about the room nervously is_ HATTIE,
_her daughter_, JIM’S _sister, a woman of about thirty with a
high-strung, defiant face—an intelligent head showing both power
and courage. She is dressed severely, mannishly._
_It is a fine morning in Spring. Sunshine comes through the
windows at the left._
MRS. HARRIS—Time dey was here, ain’t it?
HATTIE—[_Impatiently._] Yes.
MRS. H.—[_Worriedly._] You ain’t gwine ter kick up a fuss, is you—like
you done wid Jim befo’ de weddin’?
HATTIE—No. What’s done is done.
MRS. H.—We mustn’t let her see we hold it agin’ her—de bad dat happened
to her wid dat no-count fighter.
HATTIE—I certainly never give that a thought. It’s what she’s done to
Jim—making him run away and give up his fight——!
MRS. H.—Jim loves her a powerful lot, must be.
HATTIE—[_After a pause—bitterly._] I wonder if she loves Jim!
MRS. H.—She must, too. Yes, she must, too. Don’t you forget dat it was
hard for her—mighty, mighty hard—harder for de white dan for de black!
HATTIE—[_Indignantly._] Why should it be?
MRS. H.—[_Shaking her head._] I ain’t talkin’ of shoulds. It’s too late
for shoulds. Dey’s o’ny one should. [_Solemnly._] De white and de black
shouldn’t mix dat close. Dere’s one road where de white goes on alone;
dere’s anudder road where de black goes on alone——
HATTIE—Yes, if they’d only leave us alone!
MRS. H.—Dey leaves your Pa alone. He comes to de top till he’s got his
own business, lots o’ money in de bank, he owns a building even befo’ he
die. [_She looks up proudly at the picture._ HATTIE _sighs
impatiently—then her mother goes on_.] Dey leaves me alone. I bears four
children into dis worl’, two dies, two lives, I helps you two grow up
fine an’ healthy and eddicated wid schoolin’ and money fo’ yo’ comfort——
HATTIE—[_Impatiently._] Ma!
MRS. H.—I does de duty God set for me in dis worl’. Dey leaves me alone.
[HATTIE _goes to the window to hide her exasperation. The mother broods
for a minute—then goes on._] The worl’ done change. Dey ain’t no
satisfaction wid nuffin’ no more.
HATTIE—Oh! [_Then after a pause._] They’ll be here any minute now.
MRS. H.—Why didn’t you go meet ’em at de dock like I axed you?
HATTIE—I couldn’t. My face and Jim’s among those hundreds of white
faces—— [_With a harsh laugh._] It would give her too much advantage!
MRS. H.—[_Impatiently._] Don’t talk dat way! What makes you so proud?
[_Then after a pause—sadly._] Hattie.
HATTIE—[_Turning._] Yes, Ma.
MRS. H.—I want to see Jim again—my only boy—but—all de same I’d ruther
he stayed away. He say in his letter he’s happy, she’s happy, dey likes
it dere, de folks don’t think nuffin’ but what’s natural at seeing ’em
married. Why don’t dey stay?
HATTIE—[_Vehemently._] No! They were cowards to run away. If they
believe in what they’ve done, then let them face it out, live it out
here, be strong enough to conquer all prejudice!
MRS. H.—Strong? Dey ain’t many strong. Dey ain’t many happy neider. Dey
was happy ovah yondah.
HATTIE—We don’t deserve happiness till we’ve fought the fight of our
race and won it! [_In the pause that follows there is a ring from back
in the flat._] It’s the door bell! You go, Ma. I—I—I’d rather not. [_Her
mother looks at her rebukingly and goes out agitatedly through the
portières._ HATTIE _waits, nervously walking about, trying to compose
herself. There is a long pause. Finally the portières are parted and_
JIM _enters. He looks much older, graver, worried._]
JIM—Hattie!
HATTIE—Jim! [_They embrace with great affection._]
JIM—It’s great to see you again! You’re looking fine.
HATTIE—[_Looking at him searchingly._] You look well, too—thinner
maybe—and tired. [_Then as she sees him frowning._] But where’s Ella?
JIM—With Ma. [_Apologetically._] She sort of—broke down—when we came in.
The trip wore her out.
HATTIE—[_Coldly._] I see.
JIM—Oh, it’s nothing serious. Nerves. She needs a rest.
HATTIE—Wasn’t living in France restful?
JIM—Yes, but—too lonely—especially for her.
HATTIE—[_Resentfully._] Why? Didn’t the people there want to
associate——?
JIM—[_Quickly._] Oh, no indeedy, they didn’t think anything of that.
[_After a pause._] But—she did. For the first year it was all right.
Ella liked everything a lot. She went out with French folks and got so
she could talk it a little—and I learned it—a little. We were having a
right nice time. I never thought then we’d ever want to come back here.
HATTIE—[_Frowning._] But—what happened to change you?
JIM—[_After a pause—haltingly._] Well—you see—the first year—she and I
were living around—like friends—like a brother and sister—like you and I
might.
HATTIE—[_Her face becoming more and more drawn and tense._] You
mean—then——? [_She shudders—then after a pause._] She loves you, Jim?
JIM—If I didn’t know that I’d have to jump in the river.
HATTIE—Are you sure she loves you?
JIM—Isn’t that why she’s suffering?
HATTIE—[_Letting her breath escape through her clenched teeth._] Ah!
JIM—[_Suddenly springs up and shouts almost hysterically._] Why d’you
ask me all those damn questions? Are you trying to make trouble between
us?
HATTIE—[_Controlling herself—quietly._] No, Jim.
JIM—[_After a pause—contritely._] I’m sorry, Hattie. I’m kind of on edge
today. [_He sinks down on his chair—then goes on as if something forced
him to speak._] After that we got to living housed in. Ella didn’t want
to see nobody, she said just the two of us was enough. I was happy
then—and I really guess she was happy, too—in a way—for a while. [_Again
a pause._] But she never did get to wanting to go out any place again.
She got to saying she felt she’d be sure to run into someone she
knew—from over here. So I moved us out to the country where no tourist
ever comes—but it didn’t make any difference to her. She got to avoiding
the French folks the same as if they were Americans and I couldn’t get
it out of her mind. She lived in the house and got paler and paler, and
more and more nervous and scarey, always imagining things—until I got to
imagining things, too. I got to feeling blue. Got to sneering at myself
that I wasn’t any better than a quitter because I sneaked away right
after getting married, didn’t face nothing, gave up trying to become a
Member of the Bar—and I got to suspecting Ella must feel that way about
me, too—that I wasn’t a _real man_!
HATTIE—[_Indignantly._] She couldn’t!
JIM—[_With hostility._] You don’t need to tell me! All this was only in
my own mind. We never quarreled a single bit. We never said a harsh
word. We were as close to each other as could be. We were all there was
in the world to each other. We were alone together! [_A pause._] Well,
one day I got so I couldn’t stand it. I could see she couldn’t stand it.
So I just up and said: Ella, we’ve got to have a plain talk, look
everything straight in the face, hide nothing, come out with the exact
truth of the way we feel.
HATTIE—And you decided to come back!
JIM—Yes. We decided the reason we felt sort of ashamed was we’d acted
like cowards. We’d run away from the thing—and taken it with us. We
decided to come back and face it and live it down in ourselves, and
prove to ourselves we were strong in our love—and then, and that way
only, by being brave we’d free ourselves, and gain confidence, and be
really free inside and able then to go anywhere and live in peace and
equality with ourselves and the world without any guilty uncomfortable
feeling coming up to rile us. [_He has talked himself now into a state
of happy confidence._]
HATTIE—[_Bending over and kissing him._] Good for you! I admire you so
much, Jim! I admire both of you! And are you going to begin studying
right away and get admitted to the Bar?
JIM—You bet I am!
HATTIE—You must, Jim! Our race needs men like you to come to the front
and help—— [_As voices are heard approaching she stops, stiffens, and
her face grows cold._]
JIM—[_Noticing this—warningly._] Remember Ella’s been sick! [_Losing
control—threateningly._] You be nice to her, you hear! [MRS. HARRIS
_enters, showing_ ELLA _the way. The colored woman is plainly worried
and perplexed._ ELLA _is pale, with a strange, haunted expression in her
eyes. She runs to Jim as to a refuge, clutching his hands in both of
hers, looking from_ MRS. HARRIS _to_ HATTIE _with a frightened
defiance_.]
MRS. H.—Dere he is, child, big’s life! She was afraid we’d done
kidnapped you away, Jim.
JIM—[_Patting her hand._] This place ought to be familiar, Ella. Don’t
you remember playing here with us sometimes as a kid?
ELLA—[_Queerly—with a frown of effort._] I remember playing marbles one
night—but that was on the street.
JIM—Don’t you remember Hattie?
HATTIE—[_Coming forward with a forced smile._] It was a long time
ago—but I remember Ella. [_She holds out her hand._]
ELLA—[_Taking it—looking at_ HATTIE _with the same queer defiance_.] I
remember. But you’ve changed so much.
HATTIE—[_Stirred to hostility by_ ELLA’S _manner—condescendingly_.] Yes,
I’ve grown older, naturally. [_Then in a tone which, as if in spite of
herself, becomes bragging._] I’ve worked so hard. First I went away to
college, you know—then I took up post-graduate study—when suddenly I
decided I’d accomplish more good if I gave up learning and took up
teaching. [_She suddenly checks herself, ashamed, and stung by_ ELLA’S
_indifference_.] But this sounds like stupid boasting. I don’t mean
that. I was only explaining——
ELLA—[_Indifferently._] I didn’t know you’d been to school so long. [_A
pause._] Where are you teaching? In a colored school, I suppose. [_There
is an indifferent superiority in her words that is maddening to_
HATTIE.]
HATTIE—[_Controlling herself._] Yes. A private school endowed by some
wealthy members of our race.
ELLA—[_Suddenly—even eagerly._] Then you must have taken lots of
examinations and managed to pass them, didn’t you?
HATTIE—[_Biting her lips._] I always passed with honors!
ELLA—Yes, we both graduated from the same High School, didn’t we? That
was dead easy for me. Why I hardly even looked at a book. But Jim says
it was awfully hard for him. He failed one year, remember? [_She turns
and smiles at_ JIM—_a tolerant, superior smile but one full of genuine
love_. HATTIE _is outraged, but_ JIM _smiles_.]
JIM—Yes, it was hard for me, Honey.
ELLA—And the law school examinations Jim hardly ever could pass at all.
Could you? [_She laughs lovingly._]
HATTIE—[_Harshly._] Yes, he could! He can! He’ll pass them now—if you’ll
give him a chance!
JIM—[_Angrily._] Hattie!
MRS. HARRIS—Hold yo’ fool tongue!
HATTIE—[_Sullenly._] I’m sorry. [ELLA _has shrunk back against_ JIM.
_She regards_ HATTIE _with a sort of wondering hatred. Then she looks
away about the room. Suddenly her eyes fasten on the primitive mask and
she gives a stifled scream._]
JIM—What’s the matter, Honey?
ELLA—[_Pointing._] That! For God’s sake, what is it?
HATTIE—[_Scornfully._] It’s a Congo mask. [_She goes and picks it up._]
I’ll take it away if you wish. I thought you’d like it. It was my
wedding present to Jim.
ELLA—What is it?
HATTIE—It’s a mask which used to be worn in religious ceremonies by my
people in Africa. But, aside from that, it’s beautifully made, a work of
Art by a real artist—as real in his way as your Michael Angelo.
[_Forces_ ELLA _to take it_.] Here. Just notice the workmanship.
ELLA—[_Defiantly._] I’m not scared of it if you’re not. [_Looking at it
with disgust._] Beautiful? Well, some people certainly have queer
notions! It looks ugly to me and stupid—like a kid’s game—making faces!
[_She slaps it contemptuously._] Pooh! You needn’t look hard at me. I’ll
give you the laugh. [_She goes to put it back on the stand._]
JIM—Maybe, if it disturbs you, we better put it in some other room.
ELLA—[_Defiantly aggressive._] No. I want it here where I can give it
the laugh! [_She sets it there again—then turns suddenly on_ HATTIE
_with aggressive determination_.] Jim’s not going to take any more
examinations! I won’t let him!
HATTIE—[_Bursting forth._] Jim! Do you hear that? There’s white
justice!—their fear for their superiority!——
ELLA—[_With a terrified pleading._] Make her go away, Jim!
JIM—[_Losing control—furiously to his sister._] Either you leave here—or
we will!
MRS. H.—[_Weeping—throws her arms around_ HATTIE.] Let’s go, chile!
Let’s go!
HATTIE—[_Calmly now._] Yes, Ma. All right. [_They go through the
portières. As soon as they are gone_, JIM _suddenly collapses into a
chair and hides his head in his hands_. ELLA _stands beside him for a
moment. She stares distractedly about her, at the portrait, at the mask,
at the furniture, at_ JIM. _She seems fighting to escape from some
weight on her mind. She throws this off and, completely her old self for
the moment, kneels by_ JIM _and pats his shoulder_.]
ELLA—[_With kindness and love._] Don’t, Jim! Don’t cry, please! You
don’t suppose I really meant that about the examinations, do you? Why,
of course, I didn’t mean a word! I couldn’t mean it! I want you to take
the examinations! I want you to pass! I want you to be a lawyer! I want
you to be the best lawyer in the country! I want you to show ’em—all the
dirty sneaking; gossiping liars that talk behind our backs—what a man I
married. I want the whole world to know you’re the whitest of the white!
I want you to climb and climb—and step on ’em, stamp right on their mean
faces! I love you, Jim. You know that!
JIM—[_Calm again—happily._] I hope so, Honey—and I’ll make myself
worthy.
HATTIE—[_Appears in the doorway—quietly._] We’re going now, Jim.
ELLA—No. Don’t go.
HATTIE—We were going to, anyway. This is your house—Mother’s gift to
you, Jim.
JIM—[_Astonished._] But I can’t accept—— Where are you going?
HATTIE—We’ve got a nice flat in the Bronx—[_with bitter pride_] in the
heart of the Black Belt—the Congo—among our own people!
JIM—[_Angrily._] You’re crazy—I’ll see Ma—— [_He goes out._ HATTIE _and_
ELLA _stare at each other with scorn and hatred for a moment, then_
HATTIE _goes_. ELLA _remains kneeling for a moment by the chair, her
eyes dazed and strange as she looks about her. Then she gets to her feet
and stands before the portrait of_ JIM’S _father—with a sneer_.]
ELLA—It’s his Old Man—all dolled up like a circus horse! Well, they
can’t help it. It’s in the blood, I suppose. They’re ignorant, that’s
all there is to it. [_She moves to the mask—forcing a mocking tone._]
Hello, sport! Who d’you think you’re scaring? Not me! I’ll give you the
laugh. He won’t pass, you wait and see. Not in a thousand years! [_She
goes to the window and looks down at the street and mutters._] All
black! Every one of them! [_Then with sudden excitement._] No, there’s
one. Why, it’s Shorty! [_She throws the window open and calls._] Shorty!
Shorty! Hello, Shorty! [_She leans out and waves—then stops, remains
there for a moment looking down, then comes back into the room suddenly
as if she wanted to hide—her whole face in an anguish._] Say! Say! I
wonder?—No, he didn’t hear you. Yes, he did, too! He must have! I yelled
so loud you could hear me in Jersey! No, what are you talking about? How
would he hear with all kids yelling down there? He never heard a word, I
tell you! He did, too! He didn’t want to hear you! He didn’t want to let
anyone know he knew you! Why don’t you acknowledge it? What are you
lying about? I’m not! Why shouldn’t he? Where does he come in to—for
God’s sake, who is Shorty, anyway? A pimp! Yes, and a dope-peddler, too!
D’you mean to say he’d have the nerve to hear me call him and then
deliberately——? Yes, I mean to say it! I do say it! And it’s true, and
you know it, and you might as well be honest for a change and admit it!
He heard you but he didn’t want to hear you! He doesn’t want to know you
any more. No, not even him! He’s afraid it’d get him in wrong with the
old gang. Why? You know well enough! Because you married a—a—a—well, I
won’t say it, but you know without my mentioning names! [ELLA _springs
to her feet in horror and shakes off her obsession with a frantic
effort_.] Stop! [_Then whimpering like a frightened child._] Jim! Jim!
Jim! Where are you? I want you, Jim! [_She runs out of the room as_
[_The Curtain Falls_]
ACT TWO
SCENE TWO
SCENE—_The same. Six months later. It is evening. The walls of the
room appear shrunken in, the ceiling lowered, so that the
furniture, the portrait, the mask look unnaturally large and
domineering._ JIM _is seated at the table studying, law books
piled by his elbows. He is keeping his attention concentrated only
by a driving physical effort which gives his face the expression
of a runner’s near the tape. His forehead shines with
perspiration. He mutters one sentence from Blackstone over and
over again, tapping his forehead with his fist in time to the
rhythm he gives the stale words. But, in spite of himself, his
attention wanders, his eyes have an uneasy, hunted look, he starts
at every sound in the house or from the street. Finally, he
remains rigid, Blackstone forgotten, his eyes fixed on the
portières with tense grief. Then he groans, slams the book shut,
goes to the window and throws it open and sinks down beside it,
his arms on the sill, his head resting wearily on his arms,
staring out into the night, the pale glare from the arc-lamp on
the corner throwing his face into relief. The portières on the
right are parted and_ HATTIE _comes in_.
HATTIE—[_Not seeing him at the table._] Jim! [_Discovering him._] Oh,
there you are. What’re you doing?
JIM—[_Turning to her._] Resting. Cooling my head. [_Forcing a smile._]
These law books certainly are a sweating proposition! [_Then,
anxiously._] How is she?
HATTIE—She’s asleep now. I felt it was safe to leave her for a minute.
[_After a pause._] What did the doctor tell you, Jim?
JIM—The same old thing. She must have rest, he says, her mind needs
rest—— [_Bitterly._] But he can’t tell me any prescription for that
rest—leastways not any that’d work.
HATTIE—[_After a pause._] I think you ought to leave her, Jim—or let her
leave you—for a while, anyway.
JIM—[_Angrily._] You’re like the doctor. Everything’s so simple and
easy. Do this and that happens. Only it don’t. Life isn’t simple like
that—not in this case, anyway—no, it isn’t simple a bit. [_After a
pause._] I can’t leave her. She can’t leave me. And there’s a million
little reasons combining to make one big reason why we can’t. [_A
pause._] For her sake—if it’d do her good—I’d go—I’d leave—I’d do
anything—because I love her. I’d kill myself even—jump out of this
window this second—I’ve thought it over, too—but that’d only make
matters worse for her. I’m all she’s got in the world! Yes, that isn’t
bragging or fooling myself. I know that for a fact! Don’t you know
that’s true? [_There is a pleading for the certainty he claims._]
HATTIE—Yes, I know she loves you, Jim. I know that now.
JIM—[_Simply._] Then we’ve got to stick together to the end, haven’t we,
whatever comes—and hope and pray for the best? [_A pause—then
hopefully._] I think maybe this is the crisis in her mind. Once she
settles this in herself, she’s won to the other side. And me—once I
become a Member of the Bar—then I win, too! We’re both free—by our own
fighting down our own weakness! We’re both really, truly free! Then we
can be happy with ourselves here or anywhere. She’ll be proud then! Yes,
she’s told me again and again, she says she’ll be actually proud!
HATTIE—[_Turning away to conceal her emotion._] Yes, I’m sure—but you
mustn’t study too hard, Jim! You mustn’t study too awfully hard!
JIM—[_Gets up and goes to the table and sits down wearily._] Yes, I
know. Oh, I’ll pass easily. I haven’t got any scarey feeling about that
any more. And I’m doing two years’ work in one here alone. That’s better
than schools, eh?
HATTIE—[_Doubtfully._] It’s wonderful, Jim.
JIM—[_His spirit evaporating._] If I can only hold out! It’s hard! I’m
worn out. I don’t sleep. I get to thinking and thinking. My head aches
and burns like fire with thinking. Round and round my thoughts go
chasing like crazy chickens hopping and flapping before the wind. It
gets me crazy mad—’cause I can’t stop!
HATTIE—[_Watching him for a while and seeming to force herself to
speak._] The doctor didn’t tell you all, Jim.
JIM—[_Dully._] What’s that?
HATTIE—He told me you’re liable to break down too, if you don’t take
care of yourself.
JIM—[_Abjectly weary._] Let ’er come! I don’t care what happens to me.
Maybe if I get sick she’ll get well. There’s only so much bad luck
allowed to one family, maybe. [_He forces a wan smile._]
HATTIE—[_Hastily._] Don’t give in to that idea, for the Lord’s sake!
JIM—I’m tired—and blue—that’s all.
HATTIE—[_After another long pause._] I’ve got to tell you something
else, Jim.
JIM—[_Dully._] What?
HATTIE—The doctor said Ella’s liable to be sick like this a very long
time.
JIM—He told me that too—that it’d be a long time before she got back her
normal strength. Well, I suppose that’s got to be expected.
HATTIE—[_Slowly._] He didn’t mean convalescing—what he told me. [_A long
pause._]
JIM—[_Evasively._] I’m going to get other doctors in to see
Ella—specialists. This one’s a damn fool.
HATTIE—Be sensible, Jim. You’ll have to face the truth—sooner or later.
JIM—[_Irritably._] I know the truth about Ella better’n any doctor.
HATTIE—[_Persuasively._] She’d get better so much sooner if you’d send
her away to some nice sanitarium——
JIM—No! She’d die of shame there!
HATTIE—At least until after you’ve taken your examinations——
JIM—To hell with me!
HATTIE—Six months. That wouldn’t be long to be parted.
JIM—What are you trying to do—separate us? [_He gets to his
feet—furiously._] Go on out! Go on out!
HATTIE—[_Calmly._] No, I won’t. [_Sharply._] There’s something that’s
got to be said to you and I’m the only one with the courage——
[_Intensely._] Tell me, Jim, have you heard her raving when she’s out of
her mind?
JIM—[_With a shudder._] No!
HATTIE—You’re lying, Jim. You must have—if you don’t stop your ears—and
the doctor says she may develop a violent mania, dangerous for you—get
worse and worse until—Jim, you’ll go crazy too—living this way. Today
she raved on about “Black! Black!” and cried because she said her skin
was turning black—that you had poisoned her——
JIM—[_In anguish._] That’s only when she’s out of her mind.
HATTIE—And then she suddenly called me a dirty nigger.
JIM—No! She never said that ever! She never would!
HATTIE—She did—and kept on and on! [_A tense pause._] She’ll be saying
that to you soon.
JIM—[_Torturedly._] She don’t mean it! She isn’t responsible for what
she’s saying!
HATTIE—I know she isn’t—yet she is just the same. It’s deep down in her
or it wouldn’t come out.
JIM—Deep down in her people—not deep in her.
HATTIE—I can’t make such distinctions. The race in me, deep in me, can’t
stand it. I can’t play nurse to her any more, Jim,—not even for your
sake. I’m afraid—afraid of myself—afraid sometime I’ll kill her dead to
set you free! [_She loses control and begins to cry._]
JIM—[_After a long pause—somberly._] Yes, I guess you’d better stay away
from here. Good-by.
HATTIE—Who’ll you get to nurse her, Jim,—a white woman?
JIM—Ella’d die of shame. No, I’ll nurse her myself.
HATTIE—And give up your studies?
JIM—I can do both.
HATTIE—You can’t! You’ll get sick yourself! Why, you look terrible even
as it is—and it’s only beginning!
JIM—I can do anything for her! I’m all she’s got in the world! I’ve got
to prove I can be all to her! I’ve got to prove worthy! I’ve got to
prove she can be proud of me! I’ve got to prove I’m the whitest of the
white!
HATTIE—[_Stung by this last—with rebellious bitterness._] Is that the
ambition she’s given you? Oh, you soft, weak-minded fool, you traitor to
your race! And the thanks you’ll get—to be called a dirty nigger—to hear
her cursing you because she can never have a child because it’ll be born
black——!
JIM—[_In a frenzy._] Stop!
HATTIE—I’ll say what must be said even though you kill me, Jim. Send her
to an asylum before you both have to be sent to one together.
JIM—[_With a sudden wild laugh._] Do you think you’re threatening me
with something dreadful now? Why, I’d like that. Sure, I’d like that!
Maybe she’d like it better, too. Maybe we’d both find it all simple
then—like you think it is now. Yes. [_He laughs again._]
HATTIE—[_Frightenedly._] Jim!
JIM—Together! You can’t scare me even with hell fire if you say she and
I go together. It’s heaven then for me! [_With sudden savagery._] You go
out of here! All you’ve ever been aiming to do is to separate us so we
can’t be together!
HATTIE—I’ve done what I did for your own good.
JIM—I have no own good. I only got a good together with her. I’m all
she’s got in the world! Let her call me nigger! Let her call me the
whitest of the white! I’m all she’s got in the world, ain’t I? She’s all
I’ve got! You with your fool talk of the black race and the white race!
Where does the human race get a chance to come in? I suppose that’s
simple for you. You lock it up in asylums and throw away the key! [_With
fresh violence._] Go along! There isn’t going to be no more people
coming in here to separate—excepting the doctor. I’m going to lock the
door and it’s going to stay locked, you hear? Go along, now!
HATTIE—[_Confusedly._] Jim!
JIM—[_Pushes her out gently and slams the door after her—vaguely._] Go
along! I got to study. I got to nurse Ella, too. Oh, I can do it! I can
do anything for her! [_He sits down at the table and, opening the book,
begins again to recite the line from Blackstone in a meaningless rhythm,
tapping his forehead with his fist._ ELLA _enters noiselessly through
the portières. She wears a red dressing-gown over her night-dress but is
in her bare feet. She has a carving-knife in her right hand. Her eyes
fasten on_ JIM _with a murderous mania. She creeps up behind him.
Suddenly he senses something and turns. As he sees her he gives a cry,
jumping up and catching her wrist. She stands fixed, her eyes growing
bewildered and frightened._]
JIM—[_Aghast._] Ella! For God’s sake! Do you want to murder me? [_She
does not answer. He shakes her._]
ELLA—[_Whimperingly._] They kept calling me names as I was walking
along—I can’t tell you what, Jim—and then I grabbed a knife——
JIM—Yes! See! This! [_She looks at it frightenedly._]
ELLA—Where did I——? I was having a nightmare—— Where did they go—I mean,
how did I get here? [_With sudden terrified pleading—like a little
girl._] Oh, Jim—don’t ever leave me alone! I have such terrible dreams,
Jim—promise you’ll never go away!
JIM—I promise, Honey.
ELLA—[_Her manner becoming more and more childishly silly._] I’ll be a
little girl—and you’ll be old Uncle Jim who’s been with us for years and
years—— Will you play that?
JIM—Yes, Honey. Now you better go back to bed.
ELLA—[_Like a child._] Yes, Uncle Jim. [_She turns to go. He pretends to
be occupied by his book. She looks at him for a second—then suddenly
asks in her natural woman’s voice._] Are you studying hard, Jim?
JIM—Yes, Honey. Go to bed now. You need to rest, you know.
ELLA—[_Stands looking at him, fighting with herself. A startling
transformation comes over her face. It grows mean, vicious, full of
jealous hatred. She cannot contain herself but breaks out harshly with a
cruel, venomous grin._] You dirty nigger!
JIM—[_Starting as if he’d been shot._] Ella! For the good Lord’s sake!
ELLA—[_Coming out of her insane mood for a moment, aware of something
terrible, frightened._] Jim! Jim! Why are you looking at me like that?
JIM—What did you say to me just then?
ELLA—[_Gropingly._] Why, I—I said—I remember saying, are you studying
hard, Jim? Why? You’re not mad at that, are you?
JIM—No, Honey. What made you think I was mad? Go to bed now.
ELLA—[_Obediently._] Yes, Jim. [_She passes behind the portières._ JIM
_stares before him. Suddenly her head is thrust out at the side of the
portières. Her face is again that of a vindictive maniac._] Nigger!
[_The face disappears—she can be heard running away, laughing with cruel
satisfaction._ JIM _bows his head on his outstretched arms but he is too
stricken for tears_.]
[_The Curtain Falls_]
ACT TWO
SCENE THREE
SCENE—_The same, six months later. The sun has just gone down. The
Spring twilight sheds a vague, gray light about the room, picking
out the Congo mask on the stand by the window. The walls have
shrunken in still more, the ceiling now barely clears the people’s
heads, the furniture and the characters appear enormously
magnified. Law books are stacked in two great piles on each side
of the table._ ELLA _comes in from the right, the carving-knife in
her hand. She is pitifully thin, her face is wasted, but her eyes
glow with a mad energy, her movements are abrupt and spring-like.
She looks stealthily about the room, then advances and stands
before the mask, her arms akimbo, her attitude one of crazy
mockery, fear and bravado. She is dressed in the red
dressing-gown, grown dirty and ragged now, and is in her bare
feet._
ELLA—I’ll give you the laugh, wait and see! [_Then in a confidential
tone._] He thought I was asleep! He called, Ella, Ella—but I kept my
eyes shut, I pretended to snore. I fooled him good. [_She gives a little
hoarse laugh._] This is the first time he’s dared to leave me alone for
months and months. I’ve been wanting to talk to you every day but this
is the only chance—— [_With sudden violence—flourishing her knife._]
What’re you grinning about, you dirty nigger, you? How dare you grin at
me? I guess you forget what you are! That’s always the way. Be kind to
you, treat you decent, and in a second you’ve got a swelled head, you
think you’re somebody, you’re all over the place putting on airs, why,
it’s got so I can’t even walk down the street without seeing niggers,
niggers everywhere. Hanging around, grinning, grinning—going to
school—pretending they’re white—taking examinations——[_She stops,
arrested by the word, then suddenly._] That’s where he’s gone—down to
the mail-box—to see if there’s a letter from the Board—telling him—— But
why is he so long? [_She calls pitifully._] Jim! [_Then in a terrified
whimper._] Maybe he’s passed! Maybe he’s passed! [_In a frenzy._] No!
No! He can’t! I’d kill him! I’d kill myself! [_Threatening the Congo
mask._] It’s you who’re to blame for this! Yes, you! Oh, I’m on to you!
[_Then appealingly._] But why d’you want to do this to us? What have I
ever done wrong to you? What have you got against me? I married you,
didn’t I? Why don’t you let Jim alone? Why don’t you let him be happy as
he is—with me? Why don’t you let me be happy? He’s white, isn’t he—the
whitest man that ever lived? Where do you come in to interfere? Black!
Black! Black as dirt! You’ve poisoned me! I can’t wash myself clean! Oh,
I hate you! I hate you! Why don’t you let Jim and I be happy? [_She
sinks down in his chair, her arms outstretched on the table. The door
from the hall is slowly opened and_ JIM _appears. His bloodshot,
sleepless eyes stare from deep hollows. His expression is one of crushed
numbness. He holds an open letter in his hand._]
JIM—[_Seeing_ ELLA—_in an absolutely dead voice_.] Honey—I thought you
were asleep.
ELLA—[_Starts and wheels about in her chair._] What’s that? You got—you
got a letter——?
JIM—[_Turning to close the door after him._] From the Board of Examiners
for admission to the Bar, State of New York—God’s country! [_He finishes
up with a chuckle of ironic self-pity so spent as to be barely
audible._]
ELLA—[_Writhing out of her chair like some fierce animal, the knife held
behind her—with fear and hatred._] You didn’t—you didn’t—you didn’t
pass, did you?
JIM—[_Looking at her wildly._] Pass? Pass? [_He begins to chuckle and
laugh between sentences and phrases, rich, Negro laughter, but
heart-breaking in its mocking grief._] Good Lord, child, how come you
can ever imagine such a crazy idea? Pass? Me? Jim Crow Harris? Nigger
Jim Harris—become a full-fledged Member of the Bar! Why the mere notion
of it is enough to kill you with laughing! It’d be against all natural
laws, all human right and justice. It’d be miraculous, there’d be
earthquakes and catastrophes, the seven Plagues’d come again and
locusts’d devour all the money in the banks, the second Flood’d come
roaring and Noah’d fall overboard, the sun’d drop out of the sky like a
ripe fig, and the Devil’d perform miracles, and God’d be tipped head
first right out of the Judgment seat! [_He laughs, maudlinly
uproarious._]
ELLA—[_Her face beginning to relax, to light up._] Then you—you didn’t
pass?
JIM—[_Spent—giggling and gasping idiotically._] Well, I should say not!
I should certainly say not!
ELLA—[_With a cry of joy, pushes all the law books crashing to the
floor—then with childish happiness she grabs_ JIM _by both hands and
dances up and down_.] Oh, Jim, I knew it! I knew you couldn’t! Oh, I’m
so glad, Jim! I’m so happy! You’re still my old Jim—and I’m so glad!
[_He looks at her dazedly, a fierce rage slowly gathering on his face.
She dances away from him. His eyes follow her. His hands clench. She
stands in front of the mask—triumphantly._] There! What did I tell you?
I told you I’d give you the laugh! [_She begins to laugh with wild
unrestraint, grabs the mask from its place, sets it in the middle of the
table and plunging the knife down through it pins it to the table._]
There! Who’s got the laugh now?
JIM—[_His eyes bulging—hoarsely._] You devil! You white devil woman!
[_In a terrible roar, raising his fists above her head._] You devil!
ELLA—[_Looking up at him with a bewildered cry of terror._] Jim! [_Her
appeal recalls him to himself. He lets his arms slowly drop to his
sides, bowing his head._ ELLA _points tremblingly to the mask_.] It’s
all right, Jim! It’s dead. The devil’s dead. See! It couldn’t
live—unless you passed. If you’d passed it would have lived in you. Then
I’d have had to kill you, Jim, don’t you see—or it would have killed me.
But now I’ve killed it. [_She pats his hand._] So you needn’t ever be
afraid any more, Jim.
JIM—[_Dully._] I’ve got to sit down, Honey. I’m tired. I haven’t had
much chance for sleep in so long—— [_He slumps down in the chair by the
table._]
ELLA—[_Sits down on the floor beside him and holds his hand. Her face is
gradually regaining an expression that is happy, childlike and pretty._]
I know, Jim! That was my fault. I wouldn’t let you sleep. I couldn’t let
you. I kept thinking if he sleeps good then he’ll be sure to study good
and then he’ll pass—and the devil’ll win!
JIM—[_With a groan._] Don’t, Honey!
ELLA—[_With a childish grin._] That was why I carried that knife
around—[_she frowns—puzzled_]—one reason—to keep you from studying and
sleeping by scaring you.
JIM—I wasn’t scared of being killed. I was scared of what they’d do to
you after.
ELLA—[_After a pause—like a child._] Will God forgive me, Jim?
JIM—Maybe He can forgive what you’ve done to me; and maybe He can
forgive what I’ve done to you; but I don’t see how He’s going to
forgive—Himself.
ELLA—I prayed and prayed. When you were away taking the examinations and
I was alone with the nurse, I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep
but I was praying with all my might: O God, don’t let Jim pass!
JIM—[_With a sob._] Don’t, Honey, don’t! For the good Lord’s sake!
You’re hurting me!
ELLA—[_Frightenedly._] How, Jim? Where? [_Then after a pause—suddenly._]
I’m sick, Jim. I don’t think I’ll live long.
JIM—[_Simply._] Then I won’t either. Somewhere yonder maybe—together—our
luck’ll change. But I wanted—here and now—before you—we—I wanted to
prove to you—to myself—to become a full-fledged Member—so you could be
proud—— [_He stops. Words fail and he is beyond tears._]
ELLA—[_Brightly._] Well, it’s all over, Jim. Everything’ll be all right
now. [_Chattering along._] I’ll be just your little girl, Jim—and you’ll
be my little boy—just as we used to be, remember, when we were beaux;
and I’ll put shoe blacking on my face and pretend I’m black and you can
put chalk on your face and pretend you’re white just as we used to
do—and we can play marbles—only you mustn’t all the time be a boy.
Sometimes you must be my old kind Uncle Jim who’s been with us for years
and years. Will you, Jim?
JIM—[_With utter resignation._] Yes, Honey.
ELLA—And you’ll never, never, never, never leave me, Jim?
JIM—Never, Honey.
ELLA—’Cause you’re all I’ve got in the world—and I love you, Jim. [_She
kisses his hand as a child might, tenderly and gratefully._]
JIM—[_Suddenly throws himself on his knees and raises his shining eyes,
his transfigured face._] Forgive me, God—and make me worthy! Now I see
Your Light again! Now I hear Your Voice! [_He begins to weep in an
ecstasy of religious humility._] Forgive me, God, for blaspheming You!
Let this fire of burning suffering purify me of selfishness and make me
worthy of the child You send me for the woman You take away!
ELLA—[_Jumping to her feet—excitedly._] Don’t cry, Jim! You mustn’t cry!
I’ve got only a little time left and I want to play. Don’t be old Uncle
Jim now. Be my little boy, Jim. Pretend you’re Painty Face and I’m Jim
Crow. Come and play!
JIM—[_Still deeply exalted._] Honey, Honey, I’ll play right up to the
gates of Heaven with you! [_She tugs at one of his hands, laughingly
trying to pull him up from his knees as_
[_The Curtain Falls_]
WELDED
A Play in Three Acts
CHARACTERS
MICHAEL CAPE
ELEANOR OWEN, _his wife_
JOHN DARNTON
A WOMAN
ACT I
SCENE—The Capes’ apartment.
ACT II
SCENE I—Library, Darnton’s home
SCENE II—A room
ACT III
SCENE—Same as Act I
ACT I
ACT ONE
SCENE—_The Capes’ studio apartment on Fifty-ninth Street, New York
City—a large room with a high ceiling. In the rear there is a
balcony with a stairway at center leading down to the studio
floor. This balcony is the second story of the apartment, on which
are situated the bedrooms, bathroom, etc. The section of the
studio beneath the balcony is used as a dining room. The studio
proper is a combination of tasteful comfort with the
practicability of a workroom. Well-filled bookcases line the
walls. There is a typewriting table with a machine on it, a big
desk, a reading and writing table with books, magazines, etc. Easy
chairs, a chaise longue, rugs, etc._
_It is about eleven-thirty. The room is in darkness except for the
reading lamp on the table. The chaise longue has been pulled up
within the circle of light and_ ELEANOR _is lying back on this,
reading from a manuscript. She is a woman of thirty. Her figure is
tall, with the lithe lines of nervous strength. Her face, with its
high, rather prominent cheek-bones, lacks harmony; but each
feature is in itself arresting. It is dominated by passionate,
blue-gray eyes, restrained by a high forehead from which the mass
of her dark brown hair is combed straight back. The first
impression of her whole personality is one of charm, partly
innate, partly imposed by years of self-discipline. The motions of
her body are free and sure. Each movement is a complete reason for
itself. The low notes of her voice are disturbing. She is
something of every character she has ever played, of every woman
one has ever met._
_She reads, puts the script down, and her lips move as if she were
memorizing. She hesitates, frowns, utters an exclamation of
annoyance, looks at the script, finally flings it on the table
with a sigh of irritation at her mistakes, gets up, lights a
cigarette, resumes her former position, starts to take up the
script again but instead, with a sudden impulse which has
something in it of girlish embarrassment, picks up a letter from
the table. This she opens and reads, an expression of delight and
love coming over her face. She kisses the letter impulsively—then
gives a gay laugh at herself. She lets the letter fall on her lap
and stares straight before her, lost in a sentimental reverie._
_The door at right, underneath the balcony, is noiselessly opened and
Cape appears. He is thirty-five, tall and dark. His unusual face
impresses one. It is older and wiser than he, a harrowed
battlefield of super-sensitiveness, the features at war with one
another though the general effect is of a handsome face. He has
the forehead of a thinker, the eyes of a dreamer, the nose and
mouth of a sensualist. One feels a powerful imagination tinged
with somber sadness—a driving force of creation which can be
sympathetic and cruel at the same time. His manner is
extraordinarily nervous and self-conscious. He is never at ease,
is always watching himself. There is something tortured about him.
Yet at moments he can be astonishingly boyish and outpouring. His
body is gracefully made but his nervousness gives his movements an
uncoördinated quality. One feels perpetual strain about him, a
passionate tension, a self-protecting and intellectually arrogant
defiance of life and his own weakness, a deep need to love and be
loved, for a faith in which to relax._
_He has a suitcase, hat, and overcoat which he sets inside on the
floor by wall to rear of door, glancing toward his wife, trying
not to make the slightest noise. But she suddenly becomes aware of
some presence in the room, starts nervously, then turns boldly to
face it. She gives an exclamation of delighted astonishment when
she sees_ CAPE _and jumps up to meet him as he strides toward
her_.
ELEANOR—Michael!
CAPE—[_With a boyish grin._] You’ve spoiled it, Nelly; I wanted a kiss
to announce me. [_They are in each other’s arms. He kisses her
tenderly._]
ELEANOR—[_Kissing him—joyfully._] This is a surprise!
CAPE—[_Straining her in his arms and kissing her passionately._] Own
little wife!
ELEANOR—Dearest! [_They look into each other’s eyes for a long moment._]
CAPE—[_Tenderly._] Happy?
ELEANOR—Yes, yes! Why do you always ask? You know. [_She kisses him
again and nestles her face against his shoulder._]
CAPE—[_Pressing her to him._] Darling!
ELEANOR—[_Suddenly pushing him to arms’ length—with a happy laugh._]
It’s positively immoral for an old married couple to act this way. [_She
leads him by the hand to the chaise longue._] And you must explain. You
wrote not to expect you till the end of the week. [_She sits down._] Get
a cushion. Sit down here. [_He puts a cushion on the floor beside the
chaise longue and sits down._] Tell me all about it.
CAPE—[_Notices the letter lying on the floor._] Were you reading my
letter? [_She nods. He gives a happy grin._] Do you mean to say you
still read them over—after five years of me?
ELEANOR—[_With a tender smile._] Oh—sometimes.
CAPE—[_Kissing her hand._] Sweetheart! [_Smiling._] What were you
dreaming about when I intruded?
ELEANOR—Never mind. You’re enough of an egotist already. [_Her hand
caressing his face and hair._] I’ve been feeling so lonely—and it’s only
been a few weeks, hasn’t it?—but it’s seemed—ages. [_She laughs._] How
was everything in the country? [_Suddenly kissing him._] Oh, I’m so
happy you’re back. [_With mock severity._] But ought I? Have you
finished the fourth act? You know you promised not to return until you
did.
CAPE—This afternoon!
ELEANOR—That’s splendid!
CAPE—When I wrote you last it was dragging damnably—then suddenly
everything cleared and there was nothing to do but write like the devil.
[_With smiling elation._] From then on it rode me unmercifully to the
finish!
ELEANOR—You’re sure you didn’t force it—[_with a tender smile at
him_]—because you were lonely, too?
CAPE—[_With a sudden change in manner that is almost stern._] No. I
wouldn’t—I couldn’t—— You know that.
ELEANOR—[_Her face showing a trace of hurt in spite of herself._] I was
only fooling. [_Then rousing herself as if conquering a growing
depression._] Tell me about the last act. I’m terribly anxious to hear
what you’ve done.
CAPE—[_Enthusiastically._] It’s _real_, Nelly! You’ll see when I read
you—— The whole play has power and truth, I know it! And you’re going to
be marvelous! I could see you in it every second I was writing! It’s
going to be the finest thing we’ve ever done!
ELEANOR—[_Kissing him impulsively._] Dear! I love you for saying “we.”
But the “we” is you. I only—[_with a smile of ironical self-pity_]—act a
part you’ve created.
CAPE—[_Impetuously._] Nonsense! You’re an artist. Each performance of
yours has taught me something new. Why, my women used to be—death masks.
But now I flatter myself they’re as alive as you are—[_with a sudden
grin_]—at least, when you play them, Wonderful! [_He kisses her hand._]
ELEANOR—[_Her eyes shining with excited pleasure._] You don’t know how
much it means to have you talk like that! Oh, I’m going to work so hard
on this play, Michael! I’ve been studying the first three acts——
[_Impetuously._] You’ve simply got to read me that last act right now!
CAPE—[_Jumping to his feet eagerly._] All right. [_He walks toward his
bag—then stops when he is half-way and, hesitating, turns slowly and
comes back. He bends down and lifts her face to his and kisses her
tenderly, looking into her eyes—with a loving smile, slowly._] No, on
second thoughts, I won’t read it now.
ELEANOR—[_Disappointed—but tenderly._] Oh. Why not, dear?
CAPE—[_With a smile._] Because——
ELEANOR—[_Smiling._] Plagiarist!
CAPE—Because I’ve been hoping for this night as our own. Let’s forget
the actress and playwright. Let’s just be—us—lovers.
ELEANOR—[_With a tender smile—musingly._] We _have_ remained lovers—in
spite of marriage—haven’t we?