CONVENT
[The refectory of an ancient convent, resembling a simple whitewashed
Romanesque church. There are damp patches on the walls, looking like
strange figures. A long table with bowls; at the end a desk for the
Lector. At the back a door leading to the chapel. There are lighted
candles on the tables. On the wall, left, a painting representing the
Archangel Michael killing the Fiend.]
[The STRANGER is sitting left, at a refectory table, dressed in the
white clothing of a patient, with a bowl before him. At the table,
right, are sitting: the brown-clad mourners of Scene I. The BEGGAR. A
woman in mourning with two children. A woman who resembles the Lady, but
who is not her and who is crocheting instead of eating. A Man very like
the Doctor, another like the Madman. Others like the Father, Mother,
Brother. Parents of the 'Prodigal Son,' etc. All are dressed in white,
but over this are wearing costumes of coloured crepe. Their faces are
waxen and corpse-like, their whole appearance queer, their gestures
strange. On the rise of the curtain all are finishing a Paternoster,
except the STRANGER.]
STRANGER (rising and going to the ABBESS, who is standing at a serving
table). Mother. May I speak to you?
ABBESS (in a black-and-white Augustinian habit). Yes, my son. (They come
forward.)
STRANGER. First, where am I?
ABBESS. In a convent called 'St. Saviour.' You were found on the hills
above the ravine, with a cross you'd broken from a calvary and with
which you were threatening someone in the clouds. Indeed, you thought
you could see him. You were feverish and had lost your foothold. You
were picked up, unhurt, beneath a cliff, but in delirium. You were
brought to the hospital and put to bed. Since then you've spoken wildly,
and complained of a pain in your hip, but no injury could be found.
STRANGER. What did I speak of?
ABBESS. You had the usual feverish dreams. You reproached yourself with
all kinds of things, and thought you could see your victims, as you
called them.
STRANGER. And then?
ABBESS. Your thoughts often turned to money matters. You wanted to pay
for yourself in the hospital. I tried to calm you by telling you no
payment would be asked: all was done out of charity....
STRANGER. I want no charity.
ABBESS. It's more blessed to give than to receive; yet a noble nature
can accept and be thankful.
STRANGER. I want no charity.
ABBESS. Hm!
STRANGER. Tell me, why will none of those people sit at the same table
with me? They're getting up... going....
ABBESS. They seem to fear you.
STRANGER. Why?
ABBESS. You look so....
STRANGER. I? But what of them? Are they real?
ABBESS. If you mean true, they've a terrible reality. It may be they
look strange to you, because you're still feverish. Or there may be
another reason.
STRANGER. I seem to know them, all of them! I see them as if in a
mirror: they only make as if they were eating.... Is this some drama
they're performing? Those look like my parents, rather like... (Pause.)
Hitherto I've feared nothing, because life was useless to me.... Now I
begin to be afraid.
ABBESS. If you don't believe them real, I'll ask the Confessor to
introduce you. (She signs to the CONFESSOR who approaches.)
CONFESSOR (dressed in a black-and-white habit of Dominicans). Sister!
ABBESS. Tell the patient who are at that table.
CONFESSOR. That's soon done.
STRANGER. Permit a question first. Haven't we met already?
CONFESSOR. Yes. I sat by your bedside, when you were delirious. At your
desire, I heard your confession.
STRANGER. What? My confession?
CONFESSOR. Yes. But I couldn't give you absolution; because it seemed
that what you said was spoken in fever.
STRANGER. Why?
CONFESSOR. There was hardly a sin or vice you didn't take upon
yourself--things so hateful you'd have had to undergo strict penitence
before demanding absolution. Now you're yourself again I can ask whether
there are grounds for your self-accusations.
(The ABBESS leaves them.)
STRANGER. Have you the right?
CONFESSOR. No. In truth, no right. (Pause.) But you want to know in
whose company you are! The very best. There, for instance, is a madman,
Caesar, who lost his wits through reading the works of a certain writer
whose notoriety is greater than his fame. There's a beggar, who won't
admit he's a beggar, because he's learnt Latin and is free. There, a
doctor, called the werewolf, whose history's well known. There, two
parents, who grieved themselves to death over a son who raised his
hand against theirs. He must be responsible for refusing to follow his
father's bier and desecrating his mother's grave. There's his unhappy
sister, whom he drove out into the snow, as he himself recounts, with
the best intentions. Over there's a woman who's been abandoned with her
two children, and there's another doing crochet work.... All are old
acquaintances. Go and greet them!
(The STRANGER has turned his back on the company: he now goes to the
table, left, and sits down with his back to them. He raises his head,
sees the picture of the Archangel Michael and lowers his eyes. The
CONFESSOR stands behind the STRANGER. A Catholic Requiem can be heard
from the chapel. The CONFESSOR speaks to the STRANGER in a low voice
while the music goes on.)
Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando judex est venturus
Cuncta stricte discussurus,
Tuba mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulchra regionum
Coget omnes ante thronum.
Mors stupebit et natura,
Cum resurget creatura
Judicanti responsura
Liber scriptus proferetur
In quo totum continetur
Unde mundus judicetur.
Judex ergo cum sedebit
Quidquid latet apparebit
Nil inultum remanebit.
(He goes to the desk by the table, right, and opens his breviary. The
music ceases.)
We will continue the reading.... 'But if thou wilt not hearken unto the
voice of the Lord thy God all these curses shall overtake thee. Cursed
shalt thou be in the city, and cursed shalt thou be in the field; cursed
shalt thou be when thou comest in, and cursed when thou goest out.'
OMNES (in a low voice). Cursed!
CONFESSOR. 'The Lord shall send upon thee vexation and rebuke in all
that thou settest thy hand for to do, until thou be destroyed, and until
thou perish quickly, because of the wickedness of thy doings, whereby
thou hast forsaken me.'
OMNES (loudly). Cursed!
CONFESSOR. 'The Lord shall cause thee to be smitten before thine
enemies: thou shalt go out one way against them, and flee seven ways
before them, and shalt be moved into all the kingdoms of the earth. And
thy carcase shall be meat unto all fowls of the air, and unto the beasts
of the earth, and no man shall fray them away. The Lord will smite
thee with the botch of Egypt, the scab and the itch, with madness and
blindness, that thou shalt grope at noonday, as the blind gropeth in
darkness. Thou shalt not prosper in thy ways, and thou shalt be only
oppressed and spoiled evermore, and no man shall save thee. Thou shalt
betroth a wife, and another man shall lie with her: thou shalt build an
house, and thou shalt not dwell therein: thou shalt plant a vineyard,
and shalt not gather the grapes thereof. Thy sons and thy daughters
shall be given unto another people, and thine eyes fail with longing for
them; and there shall be no might in thy hand. And thou shalt find no
ease on earth, neither shall the sole of thy foot have rest: the Lord
shall give thee a trembling heart, and failing of eyes and sorrow of
mind. And thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear
day and night. In the morning thou shalt say, would God it were even!
And at even thou shalt say, would God it were morning! And because thou
servedst not the Lord thy God when thou livedst in security, thou shalt
serve him in hunger, in thirst, in nakedness and in want; and He shall
put a yoke of iron upon thy neck, until He have destroyed thee!'
OMNES. Amen!
(The CONFESSOR has read the above loudly and rapidly, without turning to
the STRANGER. All those present, except the LADY, who is working, have
been listening and have joined in the curse, though they have feigned
not to notice the STRANGER, who has remained with his back to them,
sunk in himself. The STRANGER now rises as if to go. The CONFESSOR goes
towards him.)
STRANGER. What was that?
CONFESSOR. The Book of Deuteronomy.
STRANGER. Of course. But I seem to remember blessings in it, too.
CONFESSOR. Yes, for those who keep His commandments.
STRANGER. Hm.... I can't deny that, for a moment, I felt shaken. Are
they temptations to be resisted, or warnings to be obeyed? (Pause.)
Anyhow I'm certain now that I have fever. I must go to a real doctor.
CONFESSOR. See he _is_ the right one!
STRANGER. Of course!
CONFESSOR. Who can heal 'delightful scruples of conscience'!
ABBESS. Should you need charity again, you now know where to find it.
STRANGER. No. I do not.
ABBESS (in a low voice). Then I'll tell you. In a 'rose' room, near a
certain running stream.
STRANGER. That's the truth! In a 'rose' room. Wait; how long have I been
here?
ABBESS. Three months to-day.
STRANGER. Three months! Have I been sleeping? Or where have I been?
(Looking out of the window.) It's autumn. The trees are bare; the clouds
look cold. Now it's coming back to me! Can you hear a mill grinding? The
sound of a horn? The rushing of a river? A wood whispering--and a
woman weeping? You're right. Only there can charity be found. Farewell.
(Exit.)
CONFESSOR (to the Abbess). The fool! The fool!
Curtain.