MARIA: Please, let me stay. I promise not to speak a word, only to stay beside you till you’re recognized.
JAN: No. You’d give me away.
[She turns away, then comes back and looks him in the eyes.]
MARIA: Jan, we’ve been married for five years.
JAN: Yes, almost five years.
MARIA [lowering her eyes]: And this will be the first night we spend apart. [He says nothing and she looks up, gazing earnestly at him.] I’ve always loved everything about you, even what I didn’t understand, and I know that really I wouldn’t wish you to be other than you are. I’m not a very troublesome wife, am I? But here I’m scared of the empty bed you are sending me to, and I’m afraid, too, of your forsaking me.
JAN: Surely you can trust my love better than that?
MARIA: I do trust it. But besides your love there are your dreams—or your duties; they’re the same thing. They take you away from me so often, and at those moments it’s as if you were having a holiday from me. But I can’t take a holiday from you, and tonight [She presses herself to him, weeping], this night without you—oh, I shall never be able to bear it!
JAN [clasping her tightly]: But this is childishness, my dear!
MARIA: Of course it’s childish. But … but we were so happy over there, and it’s not my fault if the nights in this country terrify me. I don’t want to be alone tonight.
JAN: But do try to understand, my dear; I’ve a promise to keep, and it’s most important.
MARIA: What promise?
JAN: The one I made to myself on the day I understood my mother needed me.
MARIA: You’ve another promise to keep.
JAN: Yes?
MARIA: The promise you made me on the day you joined your life to mine.
JAN: But surely I can keep both promises. What I’m asking of you is nothing very terrible. Nor is it a mere caprice. Only one evening and one night in which to take my bearings here, get to know better these two women who are dear to me, and to secure their happiness.
MARIA [shaking her head]: A separation always means a lot to people who love each other—with the right kind of love.
JAN: But, you romantic little creature, you know quite well I love you with the right kind of love.
MARIA: No, Jan. Men do not know how real love should be. Nothing they have can ever satisfy them. They’re always dreaming dreams, building up new duties, going to new countries and new homes. Women are different; they know that life is short and one must make haste to love, to share the same bed, embrace the man one loves, and dread every separation. When one loves one has no time for dreams.
JAN: But, really, dear, aren’t you exaggerating? It’s such a simple thing I’m doing; trying to get in touch again with my mother, to help her and bring her happiness. As for my dreams and duties, you’ll have to take them as they are. Without them I’d be a mere shadow of myself; indeed you’d love me less, were I without them.
MARIA [turning her back to him abruptly]: Oh, I know you can talk me round, you can always find good reasons for anything you want to do. But I refuse to listen, I stop my ears when you start speaking in that special voice I know so well. It’s the voice of your loneliness, not of love.
JAN [standing behind her]: Let’s not talk of that now, Maria. All I’m asking is to be left here by myself, so that I can clear up certain things in my mind. Really it’s nothing so very terrible, or extraordinary, my sleeping under the same roof as my mother. God will see to the rest and He knows, too, that in acting thus I’m not forgetting you. Only—no one can be happy in exile or estrangement. One can’t remain a stranger all one’s life. It is quite true that a man needs happiness, but he also needs to find his true place in the world. And I believe that coming back to my country, making happy those I love, will help me to do this. I don’t look any farther.
MARIA: Surely you could do it without all these … these complications? No, Jan, I’m afraid you are going the wrong way about it.
JAN: It’s the right way, because it’s the only way of finding out whether or not I did well to have those dreams.
MARIA: I hope you’ll find that you did well. But I have only one dream—of that country where we were happy together; and only one duty—toward you.
JAN [embracing her]: Let me have my way, dear. I’ll find the things to say that will put everything right.
MARIA [in an access of emotion]: Then follow your dream, dear. Nothing matters, if only I keep your love. Usually I can’t be unhappy when you hold me in your arms. I bide my time, I wait till you come down from the clouds; and then my hour begins. What makes me so unhappy today is that, though I’m quite sure of your love, I’m no less sure you will not let me stay with you. That’s why men’s love is so cruel, so heart-rending. They can’t prevent themselves from leaving what they value most.
JAN [holding her face between his hands, and smiling]: Quite true, my dear. But come now! Look at me! I’m not in any danger, as you seem to fear. I’m carrying out my plan, and I know all will be well. You’re entrusting me for just one night to my mother and my sister; there’s nothing so alarming about that, is there?
MARIA [freeing herself]: Then—good-by! And may my love shield you from harm. [She goes to the door, and holds out her hands.] See how poor I am; they’re empty! You—you’re going forward to adventure. I can only wait.
[After a momentary hesitation she goes out. JAN sits down. MARTHA enters.]
JAN: Good afternoon. I’ve come about the room.
MARTHA: I know. It’s being made ready. But, first, I must enter you in our register.
[She goes out and comes back with the register.]
JAN: I must say, your servant is a very queer fellow.
MARTHA: This is the first time we’ve had any complaint about him. He always carries out his duties quite satisfactorily.
JAN: Oh, I wasn’t complaining. I only meant that he seemed a bit of a character. Is he dumb?
MARTHA: It’s not that.
JAN: Ah! then he does speak.
MARTHA: As little as possible and only when really necessary.
JAN: Anyhow, he doesn’t seem to hear what one says.
MARTHA: It’s not so much that he doesn’t hear; only he hears badly. Now I must ask you for your name and Christian names.
JAN: Hasek, Karl.
MARTHA: Only Karl?
JAN: Yes.
MARTHA: Date and place of birth?
JAN: I’m thirty-eight.
MARTHA: Yes, but where were you born?
JAN [after a brief hesitation]: Oh, in … in Bohemia.
MARTHA: Profession?
JAN: None.
MARTHA: One has to be very rich, or very poor, to travel, when one does no work.
JAN [smiling]: I’m not very poor and, for several reasons, I’m glad it’s so.
MARTHA [in a different tone]: You’re a Czech, I suppose?
JAN: Certainly.
MARTHA: Your usual residence?
JAN: In Bohemia.
MARTHA: Have you come from there?
JAN: No, I’ve come from the south. [She looks at him questioningly.] From across the sea.
MARTHA: Ah, yes. [A short silence.] Do you go there often?
JAN: Fairly often.
MARTHA [she seems lost in thought for some moments before continuing]: And where are you going?
JAN: I’ve not decided. It will depend on a lot of things.
MARTHA: Then do you propose to stay here?
JAN: I don’t know. It depends on what I find here.
MARTHA: That doesn’t matter. Is no one here expecting you?
JAN: No, I couldn’t say anyone’s expecting me.
MARTHA: You have your identity papers, I suppose?
JAN: Yes, I can show you them.
MARTHA: Don’t trouble. I’ve only got to write down whether you have an identity card or a passport.
JAN [producing a passport from his pocket]: I’ve a passport. Here it is. Will you have a look at it? [She takes it, but her thoughts are obviously elsewhere. She seems to be weighing it in her palm; then she hands it back.]
MARTHA: No, keep it. When you’re over there, do you live near the sea?
JAN: Yes.
[She gets up, seems about to put the book away; then, changing her mind, holds it open in front of her.]
MARTHA [with sudden harshness]: Ah, I was forgetting. Have you a family?
JAN: Well, I had one once. But I left them many years ago.
MARTHA: No, I meant, are you married?
JAN: Why do you ask that? I’ve never had the question put to me in any other hotel.
MARTHA: It’s one of the questions on the list given us by the police.
JAN: You surprise me.… Yes, I’m married. Didn’t you notice my wedding ring?
MARTHA: No, I didn’t. It’s none of my business to look at your hands; I’m here to fill in your registration form. Your wife’s address, please.
JAN: Well, she … as a matter of fact, she’s stayed behind, in her country.
MARTHA: Ah! Very good. [Closes the book.] Shall I bring you a drink now, while your room’s being made ready?
JAN: No, thanks. But, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay here. I hope I won’t be in your way.
MARTHA: Why should you be in my way? This is a public room, for the use of our customers.
JAN: Yes, but someone by himself can
