Complete Works of James Joyce

by Unknown

(Gently.) Does nothing then in life give you peace? Surely it exists for you somewhere.

  BEATRICE

  If there were convents in our religion perhaps there. At least, I think so at times.

  RICHARD

  (Shakes his head.) No, Miss Justice, not even there. You could not give yourself freely and wholly.

  BEATRICE

  (Looking at him.) I would try.

  RICHARD

  You would try, yes. You were drawn to him as your mind was drawn towards mine. You held back from him. From me, too, in a different way. You cannot give yourself freely and wholly.

  BEATRICE

  (Joins her hands softly.) It is a terribly hard thing to do, Mr Rowan — to give oneself freely and wholly — and be happy.

  RICHARD

  But do you feel that happiness is the best, the highest that we can know?

  BEATRICE

  (With fervour.) I wish I could feel it.

  RICHARD

  (Leans back, his hands locked together behind his head.) O, if you knew how I am suffering at this moment! For your case, too. But suffering most of all for my own. (With bitter force.) And how I pray that I may be granted again my dead mother’s hardness of heart! For some help, within me or without, I must find. And find it I will.

  (Beatrice rises, looks at him intently, and walks away toward the garden door. She turns with indecision, looks again at him and, coming back, leans over the easychair.)

  537

  BEATRICE

  (Quietly.) Did she send for you before she died, Mr Rowan?

  RICHARD

  (Lost in thought.) Who?

  BEATRICE

  Your mother.

  RICHARD

  (Recovering himself, looks keenly at her for a moment.) So that, too, was said of me here by my friends — that she sent for me before she died and that I did not go?

  BEATRICE

  Yes.

  RICHARD

  (Coldly.) She did not. She died alone, not having forgiven me, and fortified by the rites of holy church.

  BEATRICE

  Mr Rowan, why did you speak to me in such a way?

  RICHARD

  (Rises and walks nervously to and fro.) And what I suffer at this moment you will say is my punishment.

  BEATRICE

  Did she write to you? I mean before...

  RICHARD

  (Halting.) Yes. A letter of warning, bidding me break with the past, and remember her last words to me.

  BEATRICE

  (Softly.) And does death not move you, Mr Rowan? It is an end. Everything else is so uncertain.

  RICHARD

  While she lived she turned aside from me and from mine. That is certain.

  BEATRICE

  From you and from...?

  RICHARD

  From Bertha and from me and from our child. And so I waited for the end as you say; and it came.

  BEATRICE

  (Covers her face with her hands.) O, no. Surely no.

  RICHARD

  (Fiercely.) How can my words hurt her poor body that rots in the grave? Do you think I do not pity her cold blighted love for me? I fought against her spirit while she lived to the bitter end. (He presses his hand to his forehead.) It fights against me still — in here.

  538

  BEATRICE

  (As before.) O, do not speak like that.

  RICHARD

  She drove me away. On account of her I lived years in exile and poverty too, or near it. I never accepted the doles she sent me through the bank. I waited, too, not for her death but for some understanding of me, her own son, her own flesh and blood; that never came.

  BEATRICE

  Not even after Archie...?

  RICHARD

  (Rudely.) My son, you think? A child of sin and shame! Are you serious? (She raises her face and looks at him.) There were tongues here ready to tell her all, to embitter her withering mind still more against me and Bertha and our godless nameless child. (Holding out his hands to her.) Can you not hear her mocking me while I speak? You must know the voice, surely, the voice that called you the black protestant, the pervert’s daughter. (With sudden selfcontrol.) In any case a remarkable woman.

  BEATRICE

  (Weakly.) At least you are free now.

  RICHARD

  (Nods.) Yes, she could not alter the terms of my father’s will nor live for ever.

  BEATRICE

  (With joined hands.) They are both gone now, Mr Rowan. They both loved you, believe me. Their last thoughts were of you.

  RICHARD

  (Approaching, touches her lightly on the shoulder, and points to the crayon drawing on the wall.) Do you see him there, smiling and handsome? His last thoughts! I remember the night he died. (He pauses for an instant and then goes on calmly.) I was a boy of fourteen. He called me to his bedside. He knew I wanted to go to the theater to hear Carmen. He told my mother to give me a shilling. I kissed him and went. When I came home he was dead. Those were his last thoughts as far as I know.

  539

  BEATRICE

  The hardness of heart you prayed for... (She breaks off.)

  RICHARD

  (Unheeding.) That is my last memory of him. Is there not something sweet and noble in it?

  BEATRICE

  Mr Rowan, something is on your mind to make you speak like this. Something has changed you since you came back three months ago.

  RICHARD

  (Gazing again at the drawing, calmly, almost gaily.) He will help me, perhaps, my smiling handsome father.

  (A knock is heard at the hall door on the left.)

  RICHARD

  (Suddenly.) No, no. Not the smiler, Miss Justice. The old mother. It is her spirit I need. I am going.

  BEATRICE

  Someone knocked. They have come back.

  RICHARD

  No, Bertha has a key. It is he. At least, I am going, whoever it is. (He goes out quickly on the left and comes back at once with his straw hat in his hand.)

  BEATRICE

  He? Who?

  RICHARD

  O, probably Robert. I am going out through the garden. I cannot see him now. Say I have gone to the post. Goodbye.

  BEATRICE

  (With growing alarm.) It is Robert you do not wish to see?

  RICHARD

  (Quietly.) For the moment, yes. This talk has upset me. Ask him to wait.

  BEATRICE

  You will come back?

  RICHARD

  Please God.

  (He goes out quickly through the garden. Beatrice makes as if to follow him. and then stops after a few paces. Brigid enters by the folding doors on the right and goes out on the left. The hall door is heard opening. A few seconds after Brigid enters with Robert Hand. Robert Hand is a middlesized, rather stout man between thirty and forty. He is cleanshaven, with mobile features. His hair and eyes are dark and his complexion sallow. His gait and speech are rather slow. He wears a dark blue morning suit and carries in his hand a large bunch of red roses wrapped in tissue paper.)

  540

  ROBERT

  (Coming toward. her with outstretched hand which she takes.) My dearest coz. Brigid told me you were here. I had no notion. Did you send mother a telegram?

  BEATRICE

  (Gazing at the roses.) No.

  ROBERT

  (Following her gaze.) You are admiring my roses. I brought them to the mistress of the house. (Critically.) I am afraid they are not nice.

  BRIGID

  O, they are lovely, sir. The mistress will be delighted with them.

  ROBERT

  (Lays the roses carelessly on a chair out of sight.) Is nobody in?

  BRIGID

  Yes, sir. Sit down, sir. They’ll be here now any moment. The master was here. (She looks about her and with a half curtsey goes out on the right.)

  ROBERT

  (After a short silence.) How are you, Beatty? And how are all down in Youghal? As dull as ever?

  BEATRICE

  They w
ere well when I left.

  ROBERT

  (Politely.) O, but I’m sorry I did not know you were coming. I would have met you at the train. Why did you do it? You have some queer ways about you, Beatty, haven’t you?

  BEATRICE

  (In the same tone.) Thank you, Robert. I am quite used to getting about alone.

  ROBERT

  Yes, but I mean to say... O, well, you have arrived in your own characteristic way. (A noise is heard at the window and a boy’s voice is heard calling, Mr Hand! Robert turns.) By Jove, Archie, too, is arriving in a characteristic way!

  541

  (Archie scrambles into the room through the open window on the left and then rises to his feet, flushed and panting. Archie is a boy of eight years, dressed in white breeches, jersey and cap. He wears spectacles, has a lively manner and speaks with the slight trace of a foreign accent.)

  BEATRICE

  (Going towards him.) Goodness gracious, Archie! What is the matter?

  ARCHIE

  (Rising, out of breath.) Eh! I ran all the avenue.

  ROBERT

  (Smiles and holds out his hand.) Good evening, Archie. Why did you run?

  ARCHIE

  (Shakes hands.) Good evening. We saw you on the top of the tram, and I shouted Mr Hand! But you did not see me. But we saw you, mamma and I. She will be here in a minute. I ran.

  BEATRICE

  (Holding out her hand.) And poor me!

  ARCHIE

  (Shakes hands somewhat shyly.) Good evening, Miss Justice.

  BEATRICE

  Were you disappointed that I did not come last Friday for the lesson?

  ARCHIE

  (Glancing at her, smiles.) No.

  BEATRICE

  Glad?

  ARCHIE

  (Suddenly.) But today it is too late.

  BEATRICE

  A very short lesson?

  ARCHIE

  (Pleased.) Yes.

  BEATRICE

  But now you must study, Archie.

  ROBERT

  Were you at the bath?

  ARCHIE

  Yes.

  ROBERT

  Are you a good swimmer now?

  ARCHIE

  (Leans against the davenport.) No. Mamma won’t let me into the deep place. Can you swim well, Mr Hand?

  542

  ROBERT

  Splendidly. Like a stone.

  ARCHIE

  (Laughs.) Like a stone! (Pointing down.) Down that way?

  ROBERT

  (Pointing.) Yes, down; straight down. How do you say that over in Italy?

  ARCHIE

  That? Giù. (Pointing down and up.) That is giù and this is sù. Do you want to speak to my pappie?

  ROBERT

  Yes. I came to see him.

  ARCHIE

  (Going towards the study) I will tell him. He is in there, writing.

  BEATRICE

  (Calmly, looking at Robert.) No; he is out. He is gone to the post with some letters.

  ROBERT

  (Lightly.) O, never mind. I will wait if he is only gone to the post.

  ARCHIE

  But mamma is coming. (He glances towards the window.) Here she is!

  (Archie runs out by the door on the left. Beatrice walks slowly towards the davenport. Robert remains standing. A short silence. Archie and Bertha come in through the door on the left. Bertha is a young woman of graceful build. She has dark grey eyes, patient in expression, and soft features. Her manner is cordial and selfpossessed. She wears a lavender dress and carries her cream gloves knotted round the handle of her sunshade.)

  BERTHA

  (Shaking hands.) Good evening, Miss Justice. We thought you were still down in Youghal.

  BEATRICE

  (Shaking hands.) Good evening, Mrs Rowan.

  BERTHA

  (Bows.) Good evening, Mr Hand.

  ROBERT

  (Bowing.) Good evening, signora! Just imagine, I didn’t know either she was back till I found her here.

  BERTHA

  (To both.) Did you not come together?

  543

  BEATRICE

  No. I came first. Mr Rowan was going out. He said you would be back any moment.

  BERTHA

  I’m sorry. If you had written or sent over word by the girl this morning...

  BEATRICE

  (Laughs nervously.) I arrived only an hour and a half ago. I thought of sending a telegram but it seemed too tragic.

  BERTHA

  Ah? Only now you arrived?

  ROBERT

  (Extending his arms, blandly.) I retire from public and private life. Her first cousin and a journalist, I know nothing of her movements.

  BEATRICE

  (Not directly to him.) My movements are not very interesting.

  ROBERT

  (In the same tone.) A lady’s movements are always interesting.

  BERTHA

  But sit down, won’t you? You must be very tired.

  BEATRICE

  (Quickly.) No, not at all. I just came for Archie’s lesson.

  BERTHA

  I wouldn’t hear of such a thing, Miss Justice, after your long journey.

  ARCHIE

  (Suddenly to Beatrice.) And, besides, you didn’t bring the music.

  BEATRICE

  (A little confused.) That I forgot. But we have the old piece.

  ROBERT

  (Pinching Archie’s ear.) You little scamp. You want to get off the lesson.

  BERTHA

  O, never mind the lesson. You must sit down and have a cup of tea now. (Going towards the door on the right.) I’ll tell Brigid.

  ARCHIE

  I will, mamma. (He makes a movement to go.)

  BEATRICE

  No, please Mrs Rowan. Archie! I would really prefer...

  ROBERT

  (Quietly.) I suggest a compromise. Let it be a half-lesson.

  544

  BERTHA

  But she must be exhausted.

  BEATRICE

  (Quickly.) Not in the least. I was thinking of the lesson in the train.

  ROBERT

  (To Bertha.) You see what it is to have a conscience, Mrs Rowan.

  ARCHIE

  Of my lesson, Miss Justice?

  BEATRICE

  (Simply.) It is ten days since I heard the sound of a piano.

  BERTHA

  O, very well. If that is it...

  ROBERT

  (Nervously, gaily.) Let us have the piano by all means. I know what is in Beatty’s ears at this moment. (To Beatrice.) Shall I tell?

  BEATRICE

  If you know.

  ROBERT

  The buzz of the harmonium in her father’s parlour. (To Beatrice.) Confess.

  BEATRICE

  (Smiling.) Yes. I can hear it.

  ROBERT

  (Grimly.) So can I. The asthmatic voice of protestantism.

  BERTHA

  Did you not enjoy yourself down there, Miss Justice?

  ROBERT

  (Intervenes.) She did not, Mrs Rowan. She goes there on retreat, when the protestant strain in her prevails — gloom, seriousness, righteousness.

  BEATRICE

  I go to see my father.

  ROBERT

  (Continuing.) But she comes back here to my mother, you see. The piano influence is from our side of the house.

  BERTHA

  (Hesitating.) Well, Miss Justice, if you would like to play something... But please don’t fatigue yourself with Archie.

  ROBERT

  (Suavely.) Do, Beatty. That is what you want.

  BEATRICE

  If Archie will come?

  ARCHIE

  (With a shrug.) To listen.

  BEATRICE

  (Takes his hand.) And a little lesson, too. Very short.

  545

  BERTHA

  Well, afterwards you must stay to tea.

  BEATRICE

  (To Archie.) Come.

  (Beatrice and Archie go out toget
her by the door on the left. Bertha goes towards the davenport, takes off her hat and lays it with her sunshade on the desk. Then taking a key from a little flowervase, she opens a drawer of the davenport, takes out a slip of paper and closes the drawer again. Robert stands watching her.)

  BERTHA

  (Coming towards him with the paper in her hand.) You put this into my hand last night. What does it mean?

  ROBERT

  Do you not know?

  BERTHA

  (Reads.) There is one word which I have never dared to say to you. What is the word?

  ROBERT

  That I have a deep liking for you.

  (A short pause. The piano is heard faintly from the upper room.)

  ROBERT

  (Takes the bunch of roses from the chair.) I brought these for you. Will you take them from me?

  BERTHA

  (Taking them.) Thank you. (She lays them on the table and unfolds the paper again.) Why did you not dare to say it last night?

  ROBERT

  I could not speak to you or follow you. There were too many people on the lawn. I wanted you to think over it and so I put it into your hand when you were going away.

  BERTHA

  Now you have dared to say it.

  ROBERT

  (Moves his hand slowly past his eyes.) You passed. The avenue was dim with dusky light. I could see the dark green masses of the trees. And you passed beyond them. You were like the moon.

  BERTHA

  (Laughs.) Why like the moon?

  ROBERT

  In that dress, with your slim body, walking with little even steps. I saw the moon passing in the dusk till you passed and left my sight.

  546

  BERTHA

  Did you think of me last night?

  ROBERT

  (Comes nearer.) I think of you always — as something beautiful and distant — the moon or some deep music.

  BERTHA

  (Smiling.) And last night which was I?

  ROBERT

  I was awake half the night. I could hear your voice. I could see your face in the dark. Your eyes... I want to speak to you. Will you listen to me? May I speak?

  BERTHA

  (Sitting down.) You may.

  ROBERT

  (Sitting beside her.) Are you annoyed with me?

  BERTHA

  No.

  ROBERT

  I thought you were. You put away my poor flowers so quickly.

  BERTHA

  (Takes them from the table and holds them close to her face.) Is this what you wish me to do with them?

  ROBERT

  (Watching her.) Your face is a flower too — but more beautiful. A wild flower blowing in a hedge. (Moving his chair closer to her.) Why are you smiling? At my words?

  BERTHA

  (Laying the flowers in her lap.) I am wondering if that is what you say — to the others.