IN THE KITCHEN
[It is dark, but the moon outside throws moving shadows of the window
lattices on to the floor, as the storm clouds race by. In the corner,
right, under the crucifix, where the OLD MAN used to sit, a hunting
horn, a gun and a game bag hang on the wall. On the table a stuffed bird
of prey. As the windows are open the curtains are flapping in the wind;
and kitchen cloths, aprons and towels, that are hung on a line by the
hearth, move in the wind, whose sighing can be heard. In the distance
the noise of a waterfall. There is an occasional tapping on the wooden
floor.]
STRANGER (entering, half-dressed, a lamp in his hand). Is anyone here?
No. (He comes forward with a light, which makes the play of shadow less
marked.) What's moving on the floor? Is anyone here? (He goes to the
table, sees the stuffed bird and stands riveted to the spot.) God!
MOTHER (coming in with a lamp). Still up?
STRANGER. I couldn't sleep.
MOTHER (gently). Why not, my son?
STRANGER. I heard someone above me.
MOTHER. Impossible. There's nothing over the attic.
STRANGER. That's why I was uneasy! What's moving on the floor like
snakes?
MOTHER. Moonbeams.
STRANGER. Yes. Moonbeams. That's a stuffed bird. And those are cloths.
Everything's natural; that's what makes me uneasy. Who was knocking
during the night? Was anyone locked out?
MOTHER. It was a horse in the stable.
STRANGER. Why should it make that noise?
MOTHER. Some animals have nightmares.
STRANGER. What are nightmares?
MOTHER. Who knows?
STRANGER. May I sit down?
MOTHER. Do. I want to speak seriously to you. I was malicious last
night; you must forgive me. It's because of that I need religion; just
as I need the penitential garment and the stone floor. To spare you,
I'll tell you what nightmares are to me. My bad conscience! Whether
I punish myself or another punishes me, I don't know. I don't permit
myself to ask. (Pause.) Now tell me what you saw in your room.
STRANGER. I hardly know. Nothing. When I went in I felt as if someone
were there. Then I went to bed. But someone started pacing up and down
above me with a heavy tread. Do you believe in ghosts?
MOTHER. My religion won't allow me to. But I believe our sense of right
and wrong will find a way to punish us.
STRANGER. Soon I felt cold air on my breast--it reached my heart and
forced me to get up.
MOTHER. And then?
STRANGER. To stand and watch the whole panorama of my life unroll before
me. I saw everything--that was the worst of it.
MOTHER. I know. I've been through it. There's no name for the malady,
and only one cure.
STRANGER. What is it?
MOTHER. You know what children do when they've done wrong?
STRANGER. What?
MOTHER. First ask forgiveness!
STRANGER. And then?
MOTHER. Try to make amends.
STRANGER. Isn't it enough to suffer according to one's deserts?
MOTHER. No. That's revenge.
STRANGER. Then what must one do?
MOTHER. Can you mend a life you've destroyed? Undo a bad action?
STRANGER. Truly, no. But I was forced into it! Forced to take, for no
one gave me the right. Accursed be He who forced me! (Putting his hand
to his heart.) Ah! He's here, in this room. He's plucking out my heart!
MOTHER. Then bow your head.
STRANGER. I cannot.
MOTHER. Down on your knees.
STRANGER. I will not.
MOTHER. Christ have mercy! Lord have mercy on you! On your knees before
Him who was crucified! Only He can wipe out what's been done.
STRANGER. Not before Him! If I were forced, I'll recant... afterwards.
MOTHER. On your knees, my son!
STRANGER. I cannot bow the knee. I cannot. Help me, God Eternal.
(Pause.)
MOTHER (after a hasty prayer). Do you feel better?
STRANGER. Yes.... It was not death. It was annihilation!
MOTHER. The annihilation of the Divine. We call it spiritual death.
STRANGER. I see. (Without irony.) I begin to understand.
MOTHER. My son! You have left Jerusalem and are on the road to Damascus.
Go back the same way you came. Erect a cross at every station, and stay
at the seventh. For you, there are not fourteen, as for Him.
STRANGER. You speak in riddles.
MOTHER. Then go your way. Search out those to whom you have something to
say. First, your wife.
STRANGER. Where is she?
MOTHER. You must find her. On your way don't forget to call on him you
named the werewolf.
STRANGER. Never!
MOTHER. You'd have said that, as you came here. As you know, I expected
your coming.
STRANGER. Why?
MOTHER. For no one reason.
STRANGER. Just as I saw this kitchen... in a trance....
MOTHER. That's why I now regret trying to separate you and Ingeborg. Go
and search for her. If you find her, well and good. If not, perhaps that
too has been ordained. (Pause.) Dawn's now at hand. Morning has come and
the night has passed.
STRANGER. Such a night!
MOTHER. You'll remember it.
STRANGER. Not all of it... yet something.
MOTHER (looking out of the window, as if to herself). Lovely morning
star--how far from heaven have you fallen!
STRANGER (after a pause). Have you noticed that, before the sun rises, a
feeling of awe takes hold of mankind? Are we children of darkness, that
we tremble before the light?
MOTHER. Will you never be tired of questioning?
STRANGER. Never. Because I yearn for light.
MOTHER. Go then, and search. And peace be with you!