Plays by August Strindberg Volume II Part 11

MME. CATHERINE. That's a dreadful story. One doesn't know what to believe.

ABBe. This is not the work of man. G.o.d have mercy on him!

ADOLPHE. He is in the net, and he will never get out of it.

MME. CATHERINE. He had no business to get in.

ADOLPHE. Do you begin to suspect him also, Madame Catherine?

MME. CATHERINE. Yes and no. I have got beyond having an opinion in this matter. Have you not seen angels turn into devils just as you turn your hand, and then become angels again?

COMMISSAIRE. It certainly does look queer. However, we'll have to wait and hear what explanations he can give. No one will be judged unheard. Good evening, gentlemen. Good evening, Madame Catherine.

[Goes out.]

ABBe. This is not the work of man.

ADOLPHE. No, it looks as if demons had been at work for the undoing of man.

ABBe. It is either a punishment for secret misdeeds, or it is a terrible test.

JEANNE. [Enters, dressed in mourning] Good evening. Pardon me for asking, but have you seen Monsieur Maurice?

MME. CATHERINE. No, madame, but I think he may be here any minute.

You haven't met him then since--

JEANNE. Not since this morning.

MME. CATHERINE. Let me tell you that I share in your great sorrow.

JEANNE. Thank you, madame. [To the ABBe] So you are here, Father.

ABBe. Yes, my child. I thought I might be of some use to you. And it was fortunate, as it gave me a chance to speak to the Commissaire.

JEANNE. The Commissaire! He doesn't suspect Maurice also, does he?

ABBe. No, he doesn't, and none of us here do. But appearances are against him in a most appalling manner.

JEANNE. You mean on account of the talk the waiters overheard--it means nothing to me, who has heard such things before when Maurice had had a few drinks. Then it is his custom to speculate on crimes and their punishment. Besides it seems to have been the woman in his company who dropped the most dangerous remarks. I should like to have a look into that woman's eyes.

ADOLPHE. My dear Jeanne, no matter how much harm that woman may have done you, she did nothing with evil intention--in fact, she had no intention whatever, but just followed the promptings of her nature. I know her to be a good soul and one who can very well bear being looked straight in the eye.

JEANNE. Your judgment in this matter, Adolphe, has great value to me, and I believe what you say. It means that I cannot hold anybody but myself responsible for what has happened. It is my carelessness that is now being punished. [She begins to cry.]

ABBe. Don't accuse yourself unjustly! I know you, and the serious spirit in which you have regarded your motherhood. That your a.s.sumption of this responsibility had not been sanctioned by religion and the civil law was not your fault. No, we are here facing something quite different.

ADOLPHE. What then?

ABBe. Who can tell?

(HENRIETTE enters, dressed in travelling suit.)

ADOLPHE. [Rises with an air of determination and goes to meet HENRIETTE] You here?

HENRIETTE. Yes, where is Maurice?

ADOLPHE. Do you know--or don't you?

HENRIETTE. I know everything. Excuse me, Madame Catherine, but I was ready to start and absolutely had to step in here a moment.

[To ADOLPHE] Who is that woman?--Oh!

(HENRIETTE and JEANNE stare at each other.)

(EMILE appears in the kitchen door.)

HENRIETTE. [To JEANNE] I ought to say something, but it matters very little, for anything I can say must sound like an insult or a mockery. But if I ask you simply to believe that I share your deep sorrow as much as anybody standing closer to you, then you must not turn away from me. You mustn't, for I deserve your pity if not your forbearance. [Holds out her hand.]

JEANNE. [Looks hard at her] I believe you now--and in the next moment I don't. [Takes HENRIETTE'S hand.]

HENRIETTE. [Kisses JEANNE'S hand] Thank you!

JEANNE. [Drawing back her hand] Oh, don't! I don't deserve it! I don't deserve it!

ABBe. Pardon me, but while we are gathered here and peace seems to prevail temporarily at least, won't you, Mademoiselle Henriette, shed some light into all the uncertainty and darkness surrounding the main point of accusation? I ask you, as a friend among friends, to tell us what you meant with all that talk about killing, and crime, and the Place de Roquette. That your words had no connection with the death of the child, we have reason to believe, but it would give us added a.s.surance to hear what you were really talking about. Won't you tell us?

HENRIETTE. [After a pause] That I cannot tell! No, I cannot!

ADOLPHE. Henriette, do tell! Give us the word that will relieve us all.

HENRIETTE. I cannot! Don't ask me!

ABBe. This is not the work of man!

HENRIETTE. Oh, that this moment had to come! And in this manner!

[To JEANNE] Madame, I swear that I am not guilty of your child's death. Is that enough?

JEANNE. Enough for us, but not for Justice.

HENRIETTE. Justice! If you knew how true your words are!

ABBe. [To HENRIETTE] And if you knew what you were saying just now!

HENRIETTE. Do you know that better than I?

ABBe. Yes, I do.

(HENRIETTE looks fixedly at the ABBe.)

ABBe. Have no fear, for even if I guess your secret, it will not be exposed. Besides, I have nothing to do with human justice, but a great deal with divine mercy.