IN A RAVINE
[Entrance to a ravine between steep cliffs covered with pines. In the
foreground a wooden shanty, a broom by the door with a ramshorn hanging
from its handle. Left, a smithy, a red glow showing through its open
door. Right, a flourmill. In the background the road through the ravine
with mill-stream and footbridge. The rock formations look like giant
profiles.]
[On the rise of the curtain the SMITH is at the smithy door and the
MILLER'S WIFE at the door of the mill. When the LADY enters they sign
to one another and disappear. The clothing of both the LADY and the
STRANGER is torn and shabby.]
STRANGER. They're hiding, from us, probably.
LADY. I don't think so.
STRANGER. What a strange place! Everything seems conspire to arouse
disquiet. What's that broom there? And the horn with ointment? Probably
because it's their usual place, but it makes me think of witchcraft.
Why is the smithy black and the mill white? Because one's sooty and the
other covered with flour; yet when I saw the blacksmith by the light of
his forge and the white miller's wife, it reminded me of an old poem.
Look at those giant faces.... There's your werewolf from whom I saved
you. There he is, in profile, see!
LADY. Yes, but it's only the rock.
STRANGER. Only the rock, and yet it's he.
LADY. Shall I tell you why we can see him?
STRANGER. You mean--it's our conscience? Which pricks us when we're
hungry and tired, and is silent when we've eaten and rested. It's
horrible to arrive in rags. Our clothes are torn from climbing through
the brambles. Someone's fighting against me.
LADY. Why did you challenge him?
STRANGER. Because I want to fight in the open; not battle with unpaid
bills and empty purses. Anyhow: here's my last copper. The devil take
it, if there is one! (He throws it into the brook.)
LADY. Oh! We could have paid the ferry with it. Now we'll have to talk
of money when we reach home.
STRANGER. When can we talk of anything else?
LADY. That's because you've despised it.
STRANGER. As I've despised everything....
LADY. But not everything's despicable. Some things are good.
STRANGER. I've never seen them.
LADY. Then follow me and you will.
STRANGER. I'll follow you. (He hesitates when passing the smithy.)
LADY (who has gone on ahead). Are you frightened of fire?
STRANGER. No, but... (The horn is heard in the distance. He hurries past
the smithy after the LADY.)