Part 38 (1/2)

STRANGER. What illusions you must have! Childis.h.!.+ I lift you up! I who am down below. Yet I'm not; it's not I who sit here, for I'm dead. I know that my soul's far away, far, far away.... (He stares in front of him with an absent-minded air)... where a great lake lies in the suns.h.i.+ne like molten gold; where roses blossom on the wall amongst the vines; where a white cot stands under the acacias. But the child's asleep and the mother's sitting beside the cot doing crochet work.

There's a long, long strip coming from her mouth and on the strip is written... wait... 'Blessed are the sorrowful, for they shall be comforted.' But that's not so, really. I shall never be comforted. Tell me, isn't there thunder in the air, it's so close, so hot?

WOMAN (looking out of the window). No. I can see no clouds out there....

STRANGER. Strange... that's lightning.

WOMAN. No. You're wrong.

STRANGER. One, two, three, four, five... now the thunder must come! But it doesn't. I've never been frightened of a thunderstorm until to-day--I mean, until to-night. But is it day or night?

WOMAN. My dear, it's night.

STRANGER. Yes. It _is_ night.

(The DOCTOR has come in during this scene and has sat down behind the STRANGER, without having been seen by him.)

WAITRESS. Don't speak so loud, there's a sick person in here.

STRANGER (to the WOMAN). Give me your hand.

WOMAN (wiping it on her ap.r.o.n). Oh, why?

STRANGER. You've a lovely white hand. But... look at mine. It's black.

Can't you see it's black?

WOMAN. Yes. So it is!

STRANGER. Blackened already, perhaps even rotten? I must see if my heart's stopped. (He puts his hand to his heart.) Yes. It has! So I'm dead, and I know when I died. Strange, to be dead, and yet to be going about. But where am I? Are all these people dead, too? They look as if they'd risen from the sewers of the town, or as if they'd come from prison, poorhouse or lock hospital. They're workers of the night, suffering, groaning, cursing, quarrelling, torturing one another, dishonouring one another, envying one another, as if they possessed anything worthy of envy! The fire of sleep courses through their veins, their tongues cleave to their palates, grown dry through cursing; and then they put out the blaze with water, with fire-water, that engenders fresh thirst. With fire-water, that itself burns with a blue flame and consumes the soul like a prairie fire, that leaves nothing behind it but red sand. (He drinks.) Set fire to it. Put it out again. Set fire to it.

Put it out again! But what you can't burn up--unluckily--is the memory of what's past. How can that memory be burned to ashes?

WAITRESS. Please don't speak so loud, there's a sick man in here. So ill, that he's already asked to be given the sacrament.

STRANGER. May he soon go to h.e.l.l!

(Those present murmur at this, resenting it.)

WAITRESS. Take care! Take care!

WOMAN (to the STRANGER). Do you know that man who's been sitting behind you, staring at you all the time?

STRANGER (turning. He and the DOCTOR stare at one another for a moment, without speaking). Yes. I used to know him once.

WOMAN. He looks as if he'd like to bite you in the back.

(The DOCTOR sits down opposite the STRANGER and stares at him.)

STRANGER. What are you looking at?