Part 7

CLAIRE: I know I am. I want to. Why shouldn't you suffer? (_now seeing it more clearly than she has ever seen it_) You know what I think about you? You're afraid of suffering, and so you stop this side--in what you persuade yourself is suffering, (_waits, then sends it straight_) You know--how it is--with me and Dick? (_as she sees him suffer_) Oh, no, I don't want to hurt you! Let it be you! I'll teach you--you needn't scorn it. It's rather wonderful.

TOM: Stop that, Claire! That isn't you.

CLAIRE: Why are you so afraid--of letting me be low--if that is low? You see--(_cannily_) I believe in beauty. I have the faith that can be bad as well as good. And you know why I have the faith? Because sometimes--from my lowest moments--beauty has opened as the sea. From a cave I saw immensity.

My love, you're going away-- Let me tell you how it is with me; I want to touch you--somehow touch you once before I die-- Let me tell you how it is with me. I do not want to work, I want to be; Do not want to make a rose or make a poem-- Want to lie upon the earth and know. (_closes her eyes_) Stop doing that!--words going into patterns; They do it sometimes when I let come what's there. Thoughts take pattern--then the pattern is the thing. But let me tell you how it is with me. (_it flows again_) All that I do or say--it is to what it comes from, A drop lifted from the sea. I want to lie upon the earth and know. But--scratch a little dirt and make a flower; Scratch a bit of brain--something like a poem. (_covering her face_) Stop _doing_ that. Help me stop doing that!

TOM: (_and from the place where she had carried him_) Don't talk at all. Lie still and know-- And know that I am knowing.

CLAIRE: Yes; but we are so weak we have to talk; To talk--to touch. Why can't I rest in knowing I would give my life to reach you? That has--all there is. But I must--put my timid hands upon you, Do something about infinity. Oh, let what will flow into us, And fill us full--and leave us still. Wring me dry, And let me fill again with life more pure. To know--to feel, And do nothing with what I feel and know-- That's being good. That's nearer God.

(_drenched in the feeling that has flowed through her--but surprised--helpless_) Why, I said your thing, didn't I? Opened my life to bring you to me, and what came--is what sends you away.

TOM: No! What came is what holds us together. What came is what saves us from ever going apart. (_brokenly_) My beautiful one. You--you brave flower of all our knowing.

CLAIRE: I am not a flower. I am too torn. If you have anything--help me. Breathe, Breathe the healing oneness, and let me know in calm. (_with a sob his head rests upon her_)

CLAIRE: (_her hands on his head, but looking far_) Beauty--you pure one thing. Breathe--Let me know in calm. Then--trouble me, trouble me, for other moments--in farther calm. (_slow, motionless, barely articulate_)

TOM: (_as she does not move he lifts his head. And even as he looks at her, she does not move, nor look at him_) Claire--(_his hand out to her, a little afraid_) You went away from me then. You are away from me now.

CLAIRE: Yes, and I could go on. But I will come back, (_it is hard to do. She brings much with her_) That, too, I will give you--my by-myself-ness. That's the uttermost I can give. I never thought--to try to give it. But let us do it--the great sacrilege! Yes! (_excited, she rises; she has his hands, and bring him up beside her_) Let us take the mad chance! Perhaps it's the only way to save--what's there. How do we know? How can we know? Risk. Risk everything. From all that flows into us, let it rise! All that we never thought to use to make a moment--let it flow into what could be! Bring all into life between us--or send all down to death! Oh, do you know what I am doing? Risk, risk everything, why are you so afraid to lose? What holds you from me? Test all. Let it live or let it die. It is our chance--our chance to bear--what's there. My dear one--I will love you so. With all of me. I am not afraid now--of--all of me. Be generous. Be unafraid. Life is for _life_--though it cuts us from the farthest life. How can I make you know that's true? All that we're open to--(_hesitates, shudders_) But yes--I will, I will risk the life that waits. Perhaps only he who gives his loneliness--shall find. You never keep by holding, (_gesture of giving_) To the uttermost. And it is gone--or it is there. You do not know and--that makes the moment--(_music has begun--a phonograph downstairs; they do not heed it_) Just as I would cut my wrists--(_holding them out_) Yes, perhaps this lesser thing will tell it--would cut my wrists and let the blood flow out till all is gone if my last drop would make--would make--(_looking at them fascinated_) I want to see it doing that! Let me give my last chance for life to--

(_He snatches her--they are on the brink of their moment; now that there are no words the phonograph from downstairs is louder. It is playing languorously the Barcarole; they become conscious of this--they do not want to be touched by the love song._)

CLAIRE: Don't listen. That's nothing. This isn't that, (_fearing_) I tell you--it isn't that. Yes, I know--that's amorous--enclosing. I know--a little place. This isn't that, (_her arms going around him--all the lure of 'that' while she pleads against it as it comes up to them_) We will come out--to radiance--in far places (_admitting, using_) Oh, then let it be that! Go with it. Give up--the otherness. I will! And in the giving up--perhaps a door--we'd never find by searching. And if it's no more--than all have known, I only say it's worth the allness! (_her arms wrapped round him_) My love--my love--let go your pride in loneliness and let me give you joy!

TOM: (_drenched in her passion, but fighting_) It's _you_. (_in anguish_) You rare thing untouched--not--not into this--not back into this--by me--lover of your apartness.

(_She steps back. She sees he cannot. She stands there, before what she wanted more than life, and almost had, and lost. A long moment. Then she runs down the stairs._)

CLAIRE: (_her voice coming up_) Harry! Choke that phonograph! If you want to be lewd--do it yourselves! You tawdry things--you cheap little lewd cowards, (_a door heard opening below_) Harry! If you don't stop that music, I'll kill myself.

(_far down, steps on stairs_)

HARRY: Claire, what _is_ this?

CLAIRE: Stop that phonograph or I'll--

HARRY: Why, of course I'll stop it. What--what is there to get so excited about? Now--now just a minute, dear. It'll take a minute.

(CLAIRE _comes back upstairs, dragging steps, face ghastly. The amorous song still comes up, and louder now that doors are open. She and_ TOM _do not look at one another. Then, on a languorous swell the music comes to a grating stop. They do not speak or move. Quick footsteps_--HARRY _comes up_.)

HARRY: What in the world were you saying, Claire? Certainly you could have asked me more quietly to turn off the Victrola. Though what harm was it doing you--way up here? (_a sharp little sound from_ CLAIRE; _she checks it, her hand over her mouth_. HARRY _looks from her to_ TOM) Well, I think you two would better have had your dinner. Won't you come down now and have some?

CLAIRE: (_only now taking her hand from her mouth_) Harry, tell him to come up here--that insanity man. I--want to ask him something.

HARRY: 'Insanity man!' How absurd. He's a nerve specialist. There's a vast difference.

CLAIRE: Is there? Anyway, ask him to come up here. Want to--ask him something.

TOM: (_speaking with difficulty_) Wouldn't it be better for us to go down there?

CLAIRE: No. So nice up here! Everybody--up here!

HARRY: (_worried_) You'll--be yourself, will you, Claire? (_She checks a laugh, nods_.) I think he can help you.

CLAIRE: Want to ask him to--help me.

HARRY: (_as he is starting down_) He's here as a guest to-night, you know, Claire.

CLAIRE: I suppose a guest can--help one.

TOM: (_when the silence rejects it_) Claire, you must know, it's because it is so much, so--

CLAIRE: Be still. There isn't anything to say.

TOM: (_torn--tortured_) If it only weren't _you_!

CLAIRE: Yes,--so you said. If it weren't. I suppose I wouldn't be so--interested! (_hears them starting up below--keeps looking at the place where they will appear_)

(HARRY _is heard to call_, 'Coming, Dick?' _and_ DICK's _voice replies_, 'In a moment or two.' ADELAIDE _comes first_.)

ADELAIDE: (_as her head appears_) Well, these stairs should keep down weight. You missed an awfully good dinner, Claire. And kept Mr Edgeworth from a good dinner.

CLAIRE: Yes. We missed our dinner. (_her eyes do not leave the place where_ DR EMMONS _will come up_)

HARRY: (_as he and_ EMMONS _appear_) Claire, this is--

CLAIRE: Yes, I know who he is. I want to ask you--

ADELAIDE: Let the poor man get his breath before you ask him anything. (_he nods, smiles, looks at_ CLAIRE _with interest. Careful not to look too long at her, surveys the tower_)

EMMONS: Curious place.

ADELAIDE: Yes; it lacks form, doesn't it?

CLAIRE: What do you mean? How _dare_ you?

(_It is impossible to ignore her agitation; she is backed against the curved wall, as far as possible from them._ HARRY _looks at her in alarm, then in resentment at_ TOM, _who takes a step nearer_ CLAIRE.)

HARRY: (_trying to be light_) Don't take it so hard, Claire.

CLAIRE: (_to_ EMMONS) It must be very interesting--helping people go insane.

ADELAIDE: Claire! How preposterous.

EMMONS: (_easily_) I hope that's not precisely what we do.

ADELAIDE: (_with the smile of one who is going to 'cover it'._) Trust Claire to put it in the unique and--amusing way.

CLAIRE: Amusing? You are amused? But it doesn't matter, (_to the doctor_) I think it is very kind of you--helping people go insane. I suppose they have all sorts of reasons for having to do it--reasons why they can't stay sane any longer. But tell me, how do they do it? It's not so easy to--get out. How do so many manage it?

EMMONS: I'd like immensely to have a talk with you about all this some day.

ADELAIDE: Certainly this is not the time, Claire.

CLAIRE: The time? When you--can't go any farther--isn't that that--

ADELAIDE: (_capably taking the whole thing into matter-of-factness_) What I think is, Claire has worked too long with plants. There's something--not quite sound about making one thing into another thing. What we need is unity. (_from_ CLAIRE _something like a moan_) Yes, dear, we do need it. (_to the doctor_) I can't say that I believe in making life over like this. I don't think the new species are worth it. At least I don't believe in it for Claire. If one is an intense, sensitive person--

CLAIRE: Isn't there any way to _stop_ her? Always--always smothering it with the word for it?

EMMONS: (_soothingly_) But she can't smother it. Anything that's really there--she can't hurt with words.

CLAIRE: (_looking at him with eyes too bright_) Then you don't see it either, (_angry_) Yes, she can hurt it! Piling it up--always piling it up--between us and--What there. Clogging the way--always, (_to_ EMMONS) I want to cease to know! That's all I ask. Darken it. Darken it. If you came to help me, strike me blind!

EMMONS: You're really all tired out, aren't you? Oh, we've got to get you rested.

CLAIRE: They--deny it saying they have it; and he (_half looks at_ TOM_--quickly looks away_)--others, deny it--afraid of losing it. We're in the way. Can't you see the dead stuff piled in the path? (_Pointing._)

DICK: (_voice coming up_) Me too?

CLAIRE: (_staring at the path, hearing his voice a moment after it has come_) Yes, Dick--you too. Why not--you too. (_after he has come up_) What is there any more than you are?

DICK: (_embarrassed by the intensity, but laughing_) A question not at all displeasing to me. Who can answer it?

CLAIRE: (_more and more excited_) Yes! Who can answer it? (_going to him, in terror_) Let me go with you--and be with you--and know nothing else!

ADELAIDE: (_gasping_) Why--!

HARRY: Claire! This is going a little too--

CLAIRE: Far? But you have to go far to--(_clinging to_ DICK) Only a place to hide your head--what else is there to hope for? I can't stay with them--piling it up! Always--piling it up! I can't get through to--he won't let me through to--what I don't know is there! (DICK _would help her regain herself_) Don't push me away! Don't--don't stand me up, I will go back--to the worst we ever were! Go back--and remember--what we've tried to forget!

ADELAIDE: It's time to stop this by force--if there's no other way. (_the doctor shakes his head_)

CLAIRE: All I ask is to die in the gutter with everyone spitting on me. (_changes to a curious weary smiling quiet_) Still, why should they bother to do that?

HARRY: (_brokenly_) You're sick, Claire. There's no denying it. (_looks at_ EMMONS, _who nods_)

ADELAIDE: Something to quiet her--to stop it.

CLAIRE: (_throwing her arms around_ DICK) You, Dick. Not them. Not--any of them.

DICK: Claire, you are overwrought. You must--

HARRY: (_to_ DICK, _as if only now realizing that phase of it_) I'll tell you one thing, you'll answer to me for this! (_he starts for_ DICK--_is restrained by_ EMMONS, _chiefly by his grave shake of the head. With_ HARRY_'s move to them,_ DICK _has shielded_ CLAIRE)

CLAIRE: Yes--hold me. Keep me. You have mercy! You will have mercy. Anything--everything--that will let me be nothing!

CURTAIN

## ACT III

_In the greenhouse, the same as Act I._ ANTHONY _is bedding small plants where the Edge Vine grew. In the inner room the plant like caught motion glows as from a light within._ HATTIE, _the Maid, rushes in from outside._

ANTHONY: (_turning angrily_) You are not what this place--

HATTIE: Anthony, come in the house. I'm afraid. Mr Archer, I never saw him like this. He's talking to Mr Demming--something about Mrs Archer.

ANTHONY: (_who in spite of himself is disturbed by her agitation_) And if it is, it's no business of yours.

HATTIE: You don't know how he _is_. I went in the room and--

ANTHONY: Well, he won't hurt you, will he?

HATTIE: How do I know who he'll hurt--a person's whose--(_seeing how to get him_) Maybe he'll hurt Mrs Archer.

ANTHONY: (_startled, then smiles_) No; he won't hurt Miss Claire.

HATTIE: What do you know about it?--out here in the plant house?

ANTHONY: And I don't want to know about it. This is a very important day for me. It's Breath of Life I'm thinking of today--not you and Mr Archer.

HATTIE: Well, suppose he does something to Mr Demming?

ANTHONY: Mr Demming will have to look out for himself, I am at work.

(_resuming work_)

HATTIE: Don't you think I ought to tell Mrs Archer that--

ANTHONY: You let her alone! This is no day for her to be bothered by you. At eleven o'clock (_looks at watch_) she comes out here--to Breath of Life.

HATTIE: (_with greed for gossip_) Did you see any of them when they came downstairs last night?

ANTHONY: I was attending to my own affairs.

HATTIE: They was all excited. Mr Edgeworth--he went away. He was gone all night, I guess. I saw him coming back just as the milkman woke me up. Now he's packing his things. _He_ wanted to get to Mrs Archer too--just a little while ago. But she won't open her door for none of them. I can't even get in to do her room.

ANTHONY: Then do some other room--and leave me alone in this room.

HATTIE: (_a little afraid of what she is asking_) Is she sick, Anthony--or what? (_vindicating herself, as he gives her a look_) The doctor, he stayed here late. But she'd locked herself in. I heard Mr Archer--

ANTHONY: You heard too much! (_he starts for the door, to make her leave, but_ DICK _rushes in. Looks around wildly, goes to the trap-door, finds it locked_)

ANTHONY: What are you doing here?

DICK: Trying not to be shot--if you must know. This is the only place I can think of--till he comes to his senses and I can get away. Open that, will you? Rather--ignominious--but better be absurd than be dead.

HATTIE: Has he got the revolver?

DICK: Gone for it. Thought I wouldn't sit there till he got back, (_to_ ANTHONY) Look here--don't you get the idea? Get me some place where he can't come.

ANTHONY: It is not what this place is for.

DICK: Any place is for saving a man's life.

HATTIE: Sure, Anthony. Mrs Archer wouldn't want Mr Demming shot.

DICK: That's right, Anthony. Miss Claire will be angry at you if you get me shot. (_he makes for the door of the inner room_)

ANTHONY: You can't go in there. It's locked. (HARRY _rushes in from outside_.)

HARRY: I thought so! (_he has the revolver_. HATTIE _screams_)

ANTHONY: Now, Mr Archer, if you'll just stop and think, you'll know Miss Claire wouldn't want Mr Demming shot.

HARRY: You think that can stop me? You think you can stop me? (_raising the revolver_) A dog that--

ANTHONY: (_keeping squarely between_ HARRY _and_ DICK) Well, you can't shoot him in here. It is not good for the plants. (HARRY _is arrested by this reason_) And especially not today. Why, Mr Archer, Breath of Life may flower today. It's years Miss Claire's been working for this day.

HARRY: I never thought to see this day!

ANTHONY: No, did you? Oh, it will be a wonderful day. And how she has worked for it. She has an eye that sees what isn't right in what looks right. Many's the time I've thought--Here the form is set--and then she'd say, 'We'll try this one', and it had--what I hadn't known was there. She's like that.

HARRY: I've always been pleased, Anthony, at the way you've worked with Miss Claire. This is hardly the time to stand there eulogizing her. And she's (_can hardly say it_) things you don't know she is.

ANTHONY: (_proudly_) Oh, I know that! You think I could work with her and not know she's more than I know she is?

HARRY: Well, if you love her you've got to let me shoot the dirty dog that drags her down!

ANTHONY: Not in here. Not today. More than like you'd break the glass. And Breath of Life's in there.

HARRY: Anthony, this is pretty clever of you--but--

ANTHONY: I'm not clever. But I know how easy it is to turn life back. No, I'm not clever at all (CLAIRE _has appeared and is looking in from outside_), but I do know--there are things you mustn't hurt, (_he sees her_) Yes, here's Miss Claire.

(_She comes in. She is looking immaculate._)

CLAIRE: From the gutter I rise again, refreshed. One does, you know. Nothing is fixed--not even the gutter, (_smilingly to_ HARRY _and refusing to notice revolver or agitation_) How did you like the way I entertained the nerve specialist?

HARRY: Claire! You can _joke_ about it?

CLAIRE: (_taking the revolver from the hand she has shocked to limpness_) Whom are you trying to make hear?

HARRY: I'm trying to make the world hear that (_pointing_) there stands a dirty dog who--

CLAIRE: Listen, Harry, (_turning to_ HATTIE, _who is over by the tall plants at right, not wanting to be shot but not wanting to miss the conversation_) You can do my room now, Hattie. (_HATTIE goes_) If you're thinking of shooting Dick, you can't shoot him while he's backed up against that door.

ANTHONY: Just what I told them, Miss Claire. Just what I told them.

CLAIRE: And for that matter, it's quite dull of you to have any idea of shooting him.

HARRY: I may be dull--I know you think I am--but I'll show you that I've enough of the man in me to--

CLAIRE: To make yourself ridiculous? If I ran out and hid my head in the mud, would you think you had to shoot the mud?

DICK: (_stung out of fear_) That's pretty cruel!

CLAIRE: Well, would you rather be shot?

HARRY: So you just said it to protect him!

CLAIRE: I change it to grass, (_nodding to_ DICK) Grass. If I hid my face in the grass, would you have to burn the grass?

HARRY: Oh, Claire, how _can_ you? When you know how I love you--and how I'm suffering?

CLAIRE: (_with interest_) Are you suffering?

HARRY: Haven't you _eyes_?

CLAIRE: I should think it would--do something to you.

HARRY: God! Have you no heart? (_the door opens._ TOM _comes in_)

CLAIRE: (_scarcely saying it_) Yes, I have a heart.

TOM: (_after a pause_) I came to say good-bye.

CLAIRE: God! Have you no heart? Can't you at least wait till Dick is shot?

TOM: Claire! (_now sees the revolver in her hand that is turned from him. Going to her_) Claire!

CLAIRE: And even you think this is so important? (_carelessly raises the revolver, and with her left hand out flat, tells_ TOM _not to touch her_) Harry thinks it important he shoot Dick, and Dick thinks it important not to be shot, and you think I mustn't shoot anybody--even myself--and can't any of you see that none of that is as important as--where revolvers can't reach? (_putting revolver where there is no Edge Vine_) I shall never shoot myself. I'm too interested in destruction to cut it short by shooting. (_after looking from one to the other, laughs. Pointing_) One--two--three. You-love-me. But why do you bring it out here?

ANTHONY: (_who has resumed work_) It is not what this place is for.

CLAIRE: No this place is for the destruction that can get through.

ANTHONY: Miss Claire, it is eleven. At eleven we are to go in and see--

CLAIRE: Whether it has gone through. But how can we go--with Dick against the door?

ANTHONY: He'll have to move.

CLAIRE: And be shot?

HARRY: (_irritably_) Oh, he'll not be shot. Claire can spoil anything.

(DICK _steps away from the door_; CLAIRE _takes a step nearer it_.)

CLAIRE: (_halting_) Have I spoiled everything? I don't want to go in there.

ANTHONY: We're going in together, Miss Claire. Don't you remember? Oh (_looking resentfully at the others_) don't let any little thing spoil it for you--the work of all those days--the hope of so many days.

CLAIRE: Yes--that's it.

ANTHONY: You're afraid you haven't done it?

CLAIRE: Yes, but--afraid I have.

HARRY: (_cross, but kindly_) That's just nervousness, Claire. I've had the same feeling myself about making a record in flying.

CLAIRE: (_curiously grateful_) You have, Harry?

HARRY: (_glad enough to be back in a more usual world_) Sure. I've been afraid to know, and almost as afraid of having done it as of not having done it.

(CLAIRE _nods, steps nearer, then again pulls back_.)

CLAIRE: I can't go in there. (_she almost looks at_ TOM) Not today.

ANTHONY: But, Miss Claire, there'll be things to see today we can't see tomorrow.

CLAIRE: You bring it in here!