RICHARD.
Bertha brought it home one day from the strand. She, too, says that it is beautiful.
ROBERT.
[Lays down the stone quietly.] She is right.
[He raises his glass and drinks. A pause.]
RICHARD.
Is that all you wanted to say to me?
ROBERT.
[Quickly.] There is something else. The vicechancellor sends you, through me, an invitation for tonight—to dinner at his house. You know where he lives? [Richard nods.] I thought you might have forgotten. Strictly private, of course. He wants to meet you again and sends you a very warm invitation.
RICHARD.
For what hour?
ROBERT.
Eight. But, like yourself, he is free and easy about time. Now, Richard, you must go there. That is all. I feel tonight will be the turningpoint in your life. You will live here and work here and think here and be honoured here—among our people.
RICHARD.
[Smiling.] I can almost see two envoys starting for the United States to collect funds for my statue a hundred years hence.
ROBERT.
[Agreeably.] Once I made a little epigram about statues. All statues are of two kinds. [He folds his arms across his chest.] The statue which says: How shall I get down? and the other kind [he unfolds his arms and extends his right arm, averting his head] the statue which says: In my time the dunghill was so high.
RICHARD.
The second one for me, please.
ROBERT.
[Lazily.] Will you give me one of those long cigars of yours?
[Richard selects a Virginia cigar from the box on the table and hands it to him with the straw drawn out.]
ROBERT.
[Lighting it.] These cigars Europeanize me. If Ireland is to become a new Ireland she must first become European. And that is what you are here for, Richard. Some day we shall have to choose between England and Europe. I am a descendant of the dark foreigners: that is why I like to be here. I may be childish. But where else in Dublin can I get a bandit cigar like this or a cup of black coffee? The man who drinks black coffee is going to conquer Ireland. And now I will take just a half measure of that whisky, Richard, to show you there is no ill feeling.
RICHARD.
[Points.] Help yourself.
ROBERT.
[Does so.] Thanks. [He drinks and goes on as before.] Then you yourself, the way you loll on that lounge: then your boy’s voice and also—Bertha herself. Do you allow me to call her that, Richard? I mean as an old friend of both of you.
RICHARD.
O why not?
ROBERT.
[With animation.] You have that fierce indignation which lacerated the heart of Swift. You have fallen from a higher world, Richard, and you are filled with fierce indignation, when you find that life is cowardly and ignoble. While I… shall I tell you?
RICHARD.
By all means.
ROBERT.
[Archly.] I have come up from a lower world and I am filled with astonishment when I find that people have any redeeming virtue at all.
RICHARD.
[Sits up suddenly and leans his elbows on the table.] You are my friend, then?
ROBERT.
[Gravely.] I fought for you all the time you were away. I fought to bring you back. I fought to keep your place for you here. I will fight for you still because I have faith in you, the faith of a disciple in his master. I cannot say more than that. It may seem strange to you… Give me a match.
RICHARD.
[Lights and offers him a match.] There is a faith still stranger than the faith of the disciple in his master.
ROBERT.
And that is?
RICHARD.
The faith of a master in the disciple who will betray him.
ROBERT.
The church lost a theologian in you, Richard. But I think you look too deeply into life. [He rises, pressing Richard’s arm slightly.] Be gay. Life is not worth it.
RICHARD.
[Without rising.] Are you going?
ROBERT.
Must. [He turns and says in a friendly tone.] Then it is all arranged. We meet tonight at the vicechancellor’s. I shall look in at about ten. So you can have an hour or so to yourselves first. You will wait till I come?
RICHARD.
Good.
ROBERT.
One more match and I am happy.
[Richard strikes another match, hands it to him and rises also. Archie comes in by the door on the left, followed by Beatrice.]
ROBERT.
Congratulate me, Beatty. I have won over Richard.
ARCHIE.
[Crossing to the door on the right, calls.] Mamma, Miss Justice is going.
BEATRICE.
On what are you to be congratulated?
ROBERT.
On a victory, of course. [Laying his hand lightly on Richard’s shoulder.] The descendant of Archibald Hamilton Rowan has come home.
RICHARD.
I am not a descendant of Hamilton Rowan.
ROBERT.
What matter?
[Bertha comes in from the right with a bowl of roses.]
BEATRICE.
Has Mr Rowan…?
ROBERT.
[Turning towards Bertha.] Richard is coming tonight to the vicechancellor’s dinner. The fatted calf will be eaten: roast, I hope. And next session will see the descendant of a namesake of etcetera, etcetera in a chair of the university. [He offers his hand.] Good afternoon, Richard. We shall meet tonight.
RICHARD.
[Touches his hand.] At Philippi.
BEATRICE.
[Shakes hands also.] Accept my best wishes, Mr Rowan.
RICHARD.
Thanks. But do not believe him.
ROBERT.
[Vivaciously.] Believe me, believe me. [To Bertha.] Good afternoon, Mrs Rowan.
BERTHA.
[Shaking hands, candidly.] I thank you, too. [To Beatrice.] You won’t stay to tea, Miss Justice?
BEATRICE.
No, thank you. [Takes leave of her.] I must go. Good afternoon. Goodbye, Archie [going].
ROBERT.
Addio, Archibald.
ARCHIE.
Addio.
ROBERT.
Wait, Beatty. I shall accompany you.
BEATRICE.
[Going out on the right with Bertha.] O, don’t trouble.
ROBERT.
[Following her.] But I insist—as a cousin.
[Bertha, Beatrice and Robert go out by the door on the left. Richard stands irresolutely near the table. Archie closes the door leading to the hall and, coming over to him, plucks him by the sleeve.]
ARCHIE.
I say, pappie!
RICHARD.
[Absently.] What is it?
ARCHIE.
I want to ask you a thing.
RICHARD.
[Sitting on the end of the lounge, stares in front of him.] What is it?
ARCHIE.
Will you ask mamma to let me go out in the morning with the milkman?
RICHARD.
With the milkman?
ARCHIE.
Yes. In the milkcar. He says he will let me drive when we get on to the roads where there are no people. The horse is a very good beast. Can I go?
RICHARD.
Yes.
ARCHIE.
Ask mamma now can I go. Will you?
RICHARD.
[Glances towards the door.] I will.
ARCHIE.
He said he will show me the cows he has in the field. Do you know how many cows he has?
RICHARD.
How many?
ARCHIE.
Eleven. Eight red and three white. But one is sick now. No, not sick. But it fell.
RICHARD.
Cows?
ARCHIE.
[With a gesture.] Eh! Not bulls. Because bulls give no milk. Eleven cows. They must give a lot of milk. What makes a cow give milk?
RICHARD.
[Takes his hand.] Who knows? Do you understand what it is to give a thing?
ARCHIE.
To give? Yes.
RICHARD.
While you have a thing it can be taken from you.
ARCHIE.
By robbers? No?
RICHARD.
But when you give it, you have given it. No robber can take it from you. [He bends his head and presses his son’s hand against his cheek.] It is yours then for ever when you have given it. It will be yours always. That is to give.
ARCHIE.
But, pappie?
RICHARD.
Yes?
ARCHIE.
How could a robber rob a cow? Everyone would see him. In the night, perhaps.
RICHARD.
In the night, yes.
ARCHIE.
Are there robbers here like in Rome?
RICHARD.
There are poor people everywhere.
ARCHIE.
Have they revolvers?
RICHARD.
No.
ARCHIE.
Knives? Have they knives?
RICHARD.
[Sternly.] Yes, yes. Knives and revolvers.
ARCHIE.
[Disengages himself.] Ask mamma now. She is coming.
RICHARD.
[Makes a movement to rise.] I will.
ARCHIE.
No, sit there, pappie. You wait and ask her when she comes back. I won’t be here. I’ll be in the garden.
RICHARD.
[Sinking back again.] Yes. Go.
ARCHIE.
[Kisses him swiftly.] Thanks.
[He runs out quickly by the door at the back leading into the garden. Bertha enters by the door on the left. She approaches the table and stands beside it, fingering the petals of the roses, looking at Richard.]
RICHARD.
[Watching her.] Well?
BERTHA.
[Absently.] Well. He says he likes me.
RICHARD.
[Leans his chin in his hand.] You showed him his note?
BERTHA.
Yes. I asked him what it meant.
RICHARD.
What did he say it meant?
BERTHA.
He said I must know. I said I had an idea. Then he told me he liked me very much. That I was beautiful—and all that.
RICHARD.
Since when!
BERTHA.
[Again absently.] Since when—what?
RICHARD.
Since when did he say he liked you?
BERTHA.
Always, he said. But more since we came back. He said I was like the moon in this lavender dress. [Looking at him.] Had you any words with him—about me?
RICHARD.
[Blandly.] The usual thing. Not about you.
BERTHA.
He was very nervous. You saw that?
RICHARD.
Yes. I saw it. What else went on?
BERTHA.
He asked me to give him my hand.
RICHARD.
[Smiling.] In marriage?
BERTHA.
[Smiling.] No, only to hold.
RICHARD.
Did you?
BERTHA.
Yes. [Tearing off a few petals.] Then he caressed my hand and asked would I let him kiss it. I let him.
RICHARD.
Well?
BERTHA.
Then he asked could he embrace me—even once?… And then…
RICHARD.
And then?
BERTHA.
He put his arm round me.
RICHARD.
[Stares at the floor for a moment, then looks at her again.] And then?
BERTHA.
He said I had beautiful eyes. And asked could he kiss them. [With a gesture.] I said: Do so.
RICHARD.
And he did?
BERTHA.
Yes. First one and then the other. [She breaks off suddenly.] Tell me, Dick, does all this disturb you? Because I told you I don’t want that. I think you are only pretending you don’t mind. I don’t mind.
RICHARD.
[Quietly.] I know, dear. But I want to find out what he means or feels just as you do.
BERTHA.
[Points at him.] Remember, you allowed me to go on. I told you the whole thing from the beginning.
RICHARD.
[As before.] I know, dear… And then?
BERTHA.
He asked for a kiss. I said: Take it.
RICHARD.
And then?
BERTHA.
[Crumpling a handful of petals.] He kissed me.
RICHARD.
Your mouth?
BERTHA.
Once or twice.
RICHARD.
Long kisses?
BERTHA.
Fairly long. [Reflects.] Yes, the last time.
RICHARD.
[Rubs his hands slowly; then.] With his lips? Or… the other way?
BERTHA.
Yes, the last time.
RICHARD.
Did he ask you to kiss him?
BERTHA.
He did.
RICHARD.
Did you?
BERTHA.
[Hesitates, then looking straight at him.] I
