The Misunderstanding (Le Malentendu) Albert Camus

Translated by Graham Ley

Act One

(Noon. The reception hall of a small boarding-house. It has a clean and tidy appearance.)

Scene one

MOTHER He’s coming back. He wants to stay. MARTHA Are you quite certain?

MOTHER That’s what he said. After you’d gone out. MARTHA Alone?

MOTHER He didn’t say.

MARTHA Did he seem well-off? Lot’s of money with him? MOTHER He wasn’t worried by the price.

MARTHA If he’s rich, then so much the better. But he must be on his own. That’s the most important thing.

MOTHER (with a sigh) Yes, I suppose it is. That’s it, then. That’s the start of it.

MARTHA Yes, it is. That’s the start of it. But don’t you worry. We’ll be paid for our trouble.

(Silence. Martha looks at her mother.)

What’s the matter, mother? You haven’t been the same for some time now. There’s something wrong. I know there is.

MOTHER There’s nothing wrong. I’m just tired, that’s all. I think I need a rest.

MARTHA A rest? That’s easy. I’ll take on all the housework, yours as well as mine. The days can be all yours. All the day, and every day.

MOTHER That’s not what I meant. Not that kind of rest. No, it’s just an old woman’s dream. I just want a bit of peace, the chance to let things slide. (She gives a weak laugh.) I know. It all sounds very stupid. I wonder if religion has anything to do with it. It may be catching up with me, at long last. You never know. It has its attractions.

MARTHA You’re not that old, mother. You don’t need that. You’ve got better things to do.

MOTHER Oh, I was only joking. But after all, why not? When you reach my time of life you ought to be able to let things slide. I can’t be as hard as you. I’m much too old. It’s almost unnatural the way you do it. Other girls are different. They like to have a good time, every now and then. In fact, I know plenty who think of nothing else.

MARTHA We have our good times. Every now and then. You know that. And theirs can’t compare with ours, can they?

MOTHER There’s no need to bring that up.

MARTHA (with some concern) What’s all this? Words never used to frighten you.

MOTHER Leave me alone. You’ve no cause to complain. I still do my part of it. Anyway, what does all that matter? All I meant to say was that I’d like to see you smile sometimes. MARTHA I do smile. I promise you.

MOTHER I’ve never seen it.

MARTHA I smile in my room. When I’m on my own. That’s the way I like it. To keep my smiles for myself.

MOTHER (taking a long look at her) You’ve got a hard face, Martha. MARTHA (coming up to her, calmly) But loveable ? To you at least? MOTHER (still looking at her, and after a moment of silence) Yes, loveable. I think so. Hard or not.

MARTHA (with emotion) Oh, mother, mother! All we need is the money! With money in our hands there’s an end to grey skies and damp, dripping roofs! We’ll put the boarding-house behind us and leave this town for good. And in their place we’ll have the open sea before us, the sea I have dreamed of for so many years! That’s when you’ll see me smile. But not before then. And remember. We’ll need a lot of money if we’re to live by the sea. So we mustn’t be afraid of words, and we must give this man who’s coming here our closest attention. If he has money on him, and plenty of it, then my freedom may begin with him. Did he have much to say, when you saw him?

MOTHER No. Not much.

MARTHA What was his expression when he asked for his room?

MOTHER I can’t say I noticed. My eyes are bad, and besides, I wasn’t looking. Not very closely. I know from experience that it’s better not to look at them. It’s easier to kill when you don’t know the face. (Pause.) There. That should please you. I’m not afraid of words. Not any more. The moment has passed.

MARTHA It’s better that way. I prefer plain speaking. A crime is a crime. The only thing that matters is to know what you want.

As you did, when you answered him.

MOTHER I didn’t think of that. I answered out of habit.

MARTHA Habit? That’s a strange word to use. You’ve hardly had the chance to pick up the habit.

MOTHER You may be right. But as far as I’m concerned habit begins with the second crime. Just as something else ends with the first. The occasions may have been few and far between, but
habit gains its strength from time. Memory plays its part in all these things. So I have had the chance. Habit made me answer him, and habit kept me from looking at him closely. His was a victim’s face. It was bound to be.

MARTHA He has to die, mother.

MOTHER (quietly) Yes. He has to die. Of course he does.

MARTHA That was a strange way to say it. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?

MOTHER The truth is, Martha, that I’m worn out. It would be a great relief to think he was the last. Killing has exhausted me. I don’t care where I die. In the middle of the plain, or beside the sea. It really doesn’t matter. Not to me. But the one thing I do want to know is if we are going.

MARTHA Of course we are! That’s just the point. It’s getting nearer all the time. Pull yourself together, mother. There’s hardly very much to do. Besides, you know as well as I do that killing doesn’t really come into it. What happens, after all? He drinks his tea and falls asleep, and we carry him down to the river. Still breathing, mind. Then he’ll be found at some stage, fairly soon, stuck against the iron bars of the grid, down by the weir. There’ll be others with him. But they won’t have been so lucky. They’ll have thrown themselves in, with their eyes wide open. You remember. You said so yourself. The day we helped to clear the grid. «Ours suffered less. We’re kinder than life.» That’s what you said. So don’t be miserable. Pull yourself together. You’ll have the rest you want when we get out of here.

MOTHER Yes, I’ll pull myself together. It is some consolation, I must admit, to think they never suffered. When you think of it like that, it hardly seems a crime. Almost like lending a hand. A ight touch to turn the scale. You’re quite right. Life is much more cruel. Perhaps that’s why I always found it difficult to feel a sense of guilt.
(The Old Man comes in and sits behind the desk without a word. He stays there without moving until the end of the scene. MARTHA Where shall we put him?

MOTHER I can’t see it matters. But it must be on the first floor. MARTHA Yes, you’re right. We had a lot of trouble, last time, managing the stairs. One flight is quite enough. (She sits
down for the first time.) Tell me, mother, is it true that over there in Africa the sand is so hot that it burns your feet?

MOTHER How should I know? I’ve never been there. But they do say that the sun is so fierce that it devours everything.

MARTHA I read in a book that it eats right through, right to your soul. The glow on the bodies hides the emptiness inside.

MOTHER Is that what you dream about?

MARTHA Yes. I want a land where the sun kills questions. That would be a home for me. Living here, I feel as though I’ve got a
soul, and I want to be rid of it.

MOTHER Well, we must make a move. Time’s getting on, and there’s a lot to do. If everything goes right, I’ll be coming with you.
That needn’t worry you. But as for a home… When you reach my age, you don’t bother any more with the thought of a home. You count yourself lucky that you’ve got a house. One of these pathetic places, built of bricks and mortar, with memories for furniture and where, if you’re lucky, you sometimes get the chance to sleep. But on the other hand, to sleep and to forget, to be free of all questions …The way you put it, it could sound attractive.
(She gets up and makes her way to the door.)

Make sure it’s all ready, Martha. (Pause.) That is, if you really think that it’s worth all the trouble.
(Martha watches her go out and then leaves herself, by another door.)

Scene two

(The Old Man goes to the window, sees Jan and Maria, and moves out of sight. He remains alone on stage for a few seconds. Jan comes in. He stops, looks round the room, and sees the Old Man standing by the window.)

JAN Anyone at home?

(The Old Man looks at him, crosses the stage, and goes out.)

Scene three

(Maria comes in. Jan turns round quickly to face her.) JAN You followed me.

MARIA I’m sorry, I couldn’t… I won’t stay long. Just a look. It’s not much to ask, if I’m to leave you here.

JAN Do you realise that if anyone comes in then everything is lost?

MARIA But that’s our only chance. If I’m still here, I’ll make you tell them who you are. Whatever you may say.

(Jan turns away. Pause.)

MARIA (Looking round the room) So this is it?

JAN Yes, this is it. I walked through that door twenty years ago.

My sister was a little girl. She