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The Naturewoman, a play by Upton Sinclair |
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Act 2 |
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_ ACT II SCENE: Same as Act I. [At rise: DR. MASTERSON in easy-chair near the window; opens newspaper, sighs, wipes glasses, prepares to read.] MRS. MASTERSON. [Enters with LETITIA. ] Well! DR. MASTERSON. Home, are you? MRS. MASTERSON. Yes! And such a day! LETITIA. Shopping with Oceana! DR. MASTERSON. Humph! MRS. MASTERSON. Imagine buying clothes for a woman who won't squeeze her waist, and won't let her skirts touch the ground! DR. MASTERSON. Why didn't you take her to the men's department? LETITIA. Don't make a joke of it, father. DR. MASTERSON. How did you make out? MRS. MASTERSON. Well, we've got her so the police won't molest her. LETITIA. We told Madame Clarice her trunks had been misplaced in the steamer hold. DR. MASTERSON. Ingenious! MRS. MASTERSON. Yes! Only she spoiled it all by telling the truth! DR. MASTERSON. Where is she now? MRS. MASTERSON. She's walking . . . she says she must have exercise. LETITIA. The air in the limousine is close, it seems, DR. MASTERSON. You got something she could wear to-night? MRS. MASTERSON. Oh, yes, that part's all right. If I could only have selected the things she's going to SAY to-night! [A pause.] DR. MASTERSON. Well, and what are the signs? MRS. MASTERSON. I don't know. I can't read her at all. DR. MASTERSON. You haven't broached the subject yet? MRS. MASTERSON. Not definitely. I've hinted at it. I said we were worried about the future of Freddy and Ethel. DR. MASTERSON. And what did she say to that? MRS. MASTERSON. She said that she'd take care of them, if I'd let her. DR. MASTERSON. Why . . . that's promising. MRS. MASTERSON. So I thought . . . till I found she meant taking them off to the South Seas! DR. MASTERSON. Oh! MRS. MASTERSON. I thought I'd wait till to-night . . . after the dancing. You see, she'll have met some company, and I thought she might be feeling more . . . more genial. DR. MASTERSON. I understand. A good idea. LETITIA. Miss Pilkington ought to put her in a good mood. MRS. MASTERSON. She's passionately fond of fancy dancing, it seems. And Ethel's been writing her about to-night, so she's quite excited about it. DR. MASTERSON. I see. LETITIA. People are wildly jealous of us because we got Miss Pilkington to come here. Everybody's talking about it. MRS. MASTERSON. You haven't heard any criticisms, I hope? LETITIA. Nothing that amounts to anything. MRS. MASTERSON. I wish I could feel comfortable about it. It seems so very daring. It's been only seven months since the funeral. To be sure . . . father and I hadn't spoken for ten years. DR. MASTERSON. And everybody knows the entertainment is for charity. LETITIA. And we've only asked the very best people. DR. MASTERSON. And the date was arranged over a year ago. LETITIA. And it isn't as if we were going to dance ourselves, mother. And then they are "Biblical Dances," too. MRS. MASTERSON. I know - I know. But then, the world is so quick to gossip. They might say we were doing it because he left his fortune to a girl in the Cannibal Islands! DR. MASTERSON. Perhaps it's just as well the girl's to be here. MRS. MASTERSON. Yes, if we can keep her within bounds. I shall be on pins and needles till it's over. LETITIA. Such a white elephant in one's home! MRS. MASTERSON. And then the way Freddy and Ethel are behaving! LETITIA. Freddy wanted to stay from college and Ethel from her music lesson - both of them to go and sit around in the stores while Oceana bought clothes! DR. MASTERSON. Well, of all things! MRS. MASTERSON. I hardly know Ethel any more! LETITIA. And Freddy sits around and stares at her like a man out of his wits! MRS. MASTERSON. That'll be the next thing, I suppose . . . she'll run off and marry him! DR. MASTERSON. Well, mightn't that be a good way to solve the problem? To keep the money in the family? MRS. MASTERSON. Ouincy! LETITIA. Besides--she mightn't marry him. MRS. MASTERSON. Letitia! LETITIA. Why not, mother? MRS. MASTERSON. I'm sure, my child, you have no reason for saying anything like THAT. LETITIA. I don't trust the minx! [A pause.] DR. MASTERSON. Has Henry got home? LETITIA. He's probably there now. MRS. MASTERSON. Is he coming here to dinner? LETITIA. I'm not sure. MRS. MASTERSON. You'd better take my advice and not let him. LETITIA. Why not? MRS. MASTERSON. Because, the first thing you know, we'll have Henry in love with her, too. LETITIA. [Horrified.] MOTHER! MRS. MASTERSON. I mean it, my dear--quite seriously. What's the meaning of all this discontent of Henry's? I know him well enough . . . he's just the man to be taken in by the tricks of such a woman! SHE'D give him plenty of outdoor exercise! SHE'D go live in the country with him! LETITIA. [Springing up.] Mother! How horrible! MRS. MASTERSON. Forewarned is forearmed, LETITIA. You listen to me, and let Henry see just as little of Anna Talbot as you can. And when he's with her, you be there, too. LETITIA. [In great agitation.] I'll go home right now and see to him! [Exit.] DR. MASTERSON. [Sighs.] Oh, dear! And I was waiting for Henry to play billiards with! MRS. MASTERSON. You might get Anna to play billiards with you. No doubt she's an expert. [Exit right.] [DR. MASTERSON sighs, shakes his head, and resumes reading.] OCEANA. [Enters, radiant, clad in an ermine cloak.] Well, Uncle Quincy! DR. MASTERSON. Oceana! Bless me! How gorgeous! OCEANA. [Takes it off and throws it on the chair.] It's really too warm for walking. DR. MASTERSON. I should have thought, coming from a tropical climate . . . OCEANA. Ah, but my blood circulates, you see. [Sits opposite him.] Uncle Quincy, I want to have a talk with you. DR. MASTERSON. Yes, my dear? OCEANA. Uncle Quincy, why do you let Aunt Sophronia and Letitia frighten you the way they do? DR. MASTERSON. My dear girl! OCEANA. Take yesterday afternoon, for instance - what I said about syphilis. You know I was right, and yet you didn't dare say so. DR. MASTERSON. Really, Oceana . . . OCEANA. You are an educated man - a man of science. You know what modern ideas are. And yet you consent to be walked all over! DR. MASTERSON. My dear . . . OCEANA. Here are these women . . . they have leisure and opportunity . . . they ought to be doing some good in the world. And yet they haven't an idea except to act as other people think they ought to act! DR. MASTERSON. Dear me! Dear me! [Rises and begins to pace the room.] OCEANA. Don't run away from me. DR. MASTERSON. I'm not running away. But you are so disconcerting, Oceana . . . OCEANA. I know; but that's only because you know that what I say is true, and you don't like to feel that anybody else knows it. FREDDY. [Off.] Oceana! OCEANA. Freddy! FREDDY. [Enters.] Oh! Father's here! OCEANA. Yes; we were having a chat. FREDDY. [Hesitates.] Father, will you excuse me, please . . . I have something very important to say to OCEANA. I've been waiting for her. DR. MASTERSON. Why . . . what . . . FREDDY. Don't ask me, please. I must have a talk with her right away. Please come, Oceana. OCEANA. All right. DR. MASTERSON. I was going to the billiard-room, anyway. Pray excuse me. [Exit centre.] OCEANA. [Smiles.] See him run! Well, Freddy, what is it? FREDDY. [Intensely.] Oceana! OCEANA. What's the matter? FREDDY. You mustn't stay here! OCEANA. Why not? FREDDY. They'll ruin you, Oceana! They'll crush you, they'll spoil you forever! You must go away! OCEANA. Why, my dear boy, how can they hurt me? FREDDY. They will, they will! I've been thinking about it all day! I didn't go to college . . . I spent the whole day pacing the streets. OCEANA. Why, Freddy! FREDDY. And I want you to come away! Come away with me! I want you . . . [Wildly.] . . . I want you to marry me! OCEANA. [Aghast.] Why, Freddy! FREDDY. Oh, I know it's a fool way . . . to blurt it out at you like that. I thought up a hundred ways to say it to you. I had a fine speech all by heart, but I can't remember a word of it. When I see you I can't even think straight. I'm simply beside myself . . . I can't rest, I can't sleep, I can't do anything. I used to laugh at such ideas, but now I'm frightened at myself. Can't you understand me, Oceana? Oceana . . . I love you! OCEANA. [Whispers.] My poor boy! FREDDY. I don't ask you to say yes . . . I just ask you to give me a chance . . . a hope. If I thought I might win you, I'd do anything . . . anything! I'd wait for you . . . I'd work for you . . . I'd worship you! Oceana! [He stops.] May I . . . May I take your hand? [She does not give it.] Ah, no! I have no right! Oceana, listen to me! I have thought that I was in love before . . . but it was just childish, it was nothing like this. This has been a revelation to me . . . it makes all the world seem different to me. And just see how suddenly it's come . . . why, yesterday I was a boy! Yesterday I thought some things were interesting . . . and to-day I wonder how I could have cared about them. Nothing seems the same to me. And it all happened at once, it was like an explosion . . . the first instant I laid eyes on you I knew that you were the one woman I could ever love. And I said to myself, she will laugh at you. [He hesitates.] OCEANA. No, I won't laugh at you. FREDDY. I tried to keep it to myself, but I couldn't . . . not if I were to be hanged for it. I'm just . . . just torn out of myself. I'm trembling with delight, and then I'm plunged into despair, and then I stop to think and I'm terrified. For I don't know what I can do. Everything in my life is gone -- I won't know how to live if you send me away. OCEANA. [Gravely.] Freddy, come sit down here. Be rational now. FREDDY. Yes. [He sits watching her, in a kind of daze.] OCEANA. In the first place, Freddy . . . you must understand, it isn't the first time this has happened to me. FREDDY. No, I suppose not. OCEANA. The officers of the ships always used to fall in love with me. There were three on this last steamer. FREDDY. Yes. OCEANA. You say to marry you. But it's difficult for me to imagine myself marrying any man, no matter how much I loved him. One has to make so many promises, you know. FREDDY. How do you mean? OCEANA. You have to "love, honor and obey." FREDDY. But, Oceana! That's a mere form. OCEANA. No, no. It's written in the laws. All kinds of things . . . people don't realize it. FREDDY. But surely . . . if you love a man . . . a decent man . . . OCEANA. No decent man ought to ask a woman to sign away her self- respect. FREDDY. [Bewildered.] But then . . . then . . . what would you do? OCEANA. [Watches him, then laughs to herself.] Boston is such a funny place! FREDDY. Hey? OCEANA. Let us leave marriage out now . . . let us talk of love. Realize how much more serious it is to a woman than it is to a man. A man meets a woman and he finds her beautiful, and his blood begins to boil, and he says: "I adore you." And so she gives herself to him; and then, the next morning, he goes off and forgets all about it. FREDDY. No, no! OCEANA. I don't say you, FREDDY. But it's happened that way. The woman, though . . . she doesn't forget. She carries a reminder. And it's not only that she has the burden of the child . . . the anguish of the birth . . . the task of suckling and rearing it. It's that she has a miniature of the man with her all the rest of her days. She has his soul there . . . blended with the thing she loves most of all in the world. And so, don't you see how careful she has to be, how desperately important the thing is to her? [She sits lost in thought.] I have never been in love, Freddy, not the least little bit. I have never felt that call in my blood. But some day I shall feel it; and when I do, I shall take that man as if before a court of judgment. I shall take him away with me. I shall ask myself not merely, "Is he beautiful and strong of body?" but, "Is he beautiful and strong in soul?" I would not ask that he be learned . . . he might not chance to be a cultured man. But he would be a man of power, he would be a man who could rule himself, he would be a soul without base alloy. And when I had satisfied myself as to that, I would have found my mate. I would say to him, "I wish you to be the father of my child." [She sits again, brooding.] I would not exact pledges of him. I would say to him, "I do not ask you to take care of me; I do not ask you to take care of my child. You may go away when you wish . . . that rests with you; but _I_ wish the child." [She pauses.] Do you see? FREDDY. Yes, I see. [He gazes at her, frightened.] And you . . . you do not feel that way about me? OCEANA. Not the least little bit, FREDDY. FREDDY. And if I waited ever so long? OCEANA. I do not believe that I should ever feel it, [She puts her hand upon his arm.] My dear, dear boy! Learn to look at it as I do. Face it like a man. It is one of those things that we cannot help . . . that we do not even understand. It is the chemistry of sex; it is Nature's voice speaking to us. It means no disgrace to you that I do not love you . . . it means no inferiority, no defeat. It is the signal that Nature gives us, that we wait for, and dare not disregard. You dare not ask me to disregard it! [He is gazing into her eyes like one entranced.] You must let me teach you . . . you must let me help you. You must not let this mean misery and despair. Take hold of yourself. Perhaps you and Ethel can go back with me to my island . . . for I think that I am going. [He continues to gaze at her, speechless with admiration. She presses his arm.] Now promise me. FREDDY. What? OCEANA. That you will be a man. [They gaze into each other's eyes.] ETHEL. [Off.] Oceana! OCEANA. Here is your sister. Let us not trouble her. [Aloud.] Ethel! ETHEL. [Enters in street costume.] Oh, here you are! And your new clothes! OCEANA. Do you like me? ETHEL. No, they don't belong to you! OCEANA. [Laughs.] Well, I shan't wear them long. ETHEL. What are you going to do? OCEANA. I'm going to design some for myself. ETHEL. What kind? OCEANA. I don't know yet. But it'll be something that will leave my legs outside. ETHEL. And did you get something beautiful for tonight? OCEANA. I got something that will do. ETHEL. Oceana, when am I to see the dance? OCEANA. I told you, when I have my costume. ETHEL. But when will that be? OCEANA. When my trunks have come. FREDDY. They came this afternoon. OCEANA. Oh! Then we'll have it to-morrow morning! And I'll show you my beautiful bridal-robe. FREDDY. Bridal-robe? OCEANA. Yes. Didn't I tell you? It was made for me by one of our King's sons. His name was Paukopi . . . that means, in our language, "Child of the Sea Foam." And he was in love with me. ETHEL. Oh! OCEANA. He was very sad and went away by himself. But he was a man . . . he did not go to pieces. [She looks at FREDDY. ] He went into the forest and spent his time hunting wild birds; and he gathered their feathers and made them into this gorgeous robe . . . purple and gold and green and scarlet. He brought it and laid it at my feet, and said that it was my bridal-robe, that I must wear it at my feast. ETHEL. Oh, how lovely! FREDDY. [Rises and turns away in despair.] Oh! ETHEL. Tell me a little about the Sunrise Dance. OCEANA. It represents the worship of Nature. It portrays an awakening from slumber . . . you know the soft part of the music at the beginning . . . ETHEL. Yes. OCEANA. Then gradually I rise to my feet and gaze towards the light. There is the sun shining upon the waves of the sea, and upon the palm branches. All life is awakening and singing for joy . . . and so the music rises to an ecstasy. ETHEL. And do you dance other things? OCEANA. Oh, yes - lots of things. ETHEL. Oh, Oceana! I'm just wild to see you! OCEANA. And I'm wild to dance. I must have some vent pretty soon. You see, at home I was out of doors all the time. I hunted and fished, I swam and dived, I danced on the beach. And here . . . why, I walk down the street, and I daren't even so much as sing out loud. I have to remember that I'm a young lady, and have an ermine cloak on! Truly, I don't see how you ever stand it! ETHEL. We were brought up that way. OCEANA. Yes; and that's why you're undeveloped and frail. But tell me, don't you ever have an impulse to play? That beautiful snow out there - don't you want to tumble round in it and pelt each other with snowballs? FREDDY. We did that when we were children. OCEANA. Yes, that's the way. But I, you see . . . I'm a child still; and I expect to be always. ETHEL. And are you always happy, Oceana? OCEANA. Always. ETHEL. You never . . . you never even start to feel sad? OCEANA. Why yes, now and then. But I don't permit such moods. You see, I have the conviction that there is nothing beautiful or right about sorrow - never, under any circumstances. ETHEL. You mean you would not mourn, even if some one you loved were to die? OCEANA. I mean that I did not. [She pauses.] Yes, exactly . . . my father. He had been my life's companion, and they brought him home drowned; and yet I did not mourn. ETHEL. Oceana! OCEANA. I had trained myself . . . for just that. We had made ourselves what you might call soul-exercises; little ceremonies to remind ourselves of things we wished to hold by. The Sunrise Dance was one of those. And then, on the last day of each month, at sunset, we would sit and watch the shadows fade, and contemplate death. [She pauses, gravely.] We would say to ourselves that we, too, were shadows . . . rainbows in the sea-mist; that we held our life as a gift . . . we carried it in our hands, ready to give it up when we heard the call. [A pause.] HENRY. [Opens door centre and enters. Sees OCEANA and halts.] Oh! OCEANA. [Turns and sees him.] Why! Here's a man! [They gaze at each other, transfixed.] Ethel! Who is he? ETHEL. Why, this is HENRY. Letitia's husband. OCEANA. Oh! Letitia's husband! [With a sudden, frank gesture, putting out her hand.] Henry! HENRY. Oceana! [As their hands meet, they stand looking into each other's faces.] OCEANA. [Gripping his hand tightly.] You are strong! [Looks at his hand.] And you do not smoke, either! Let me see your eyes. HENRY. [Perplexed.] My eyes? OCEANA. Your eyes. [Turns him toward the light; studies his eyes.] They dosed you with quinine! Malaria, I suppose? HENRY. Why . . . yes. But how can you tell? OCEANA. I can tell many things. Let me see your tongue. HENRY. [Bewildered.] My tongue? OCEANA. Your tongue. HENRY. But what for? OCEANA. I can tell more about a man by looking at his tongue for a minute than by listening to it for a week. HENRY. But, Oceana - OCEANA. I am in earnest. HENRY. [Laughs.] Why . . . really . . . OCEANA. Are you afraid? HENRY. Good heavens, no! OCEANA. Put it out. [He pats his tongue out and she examines it.] So! A man with a red tongue! And in a civilized city! HENRY. Oughtn't it to be red? OCEANA. And he doesn't know what it ought to be! How delicious! [She steps back from him.] And so you are Letitia's husband. Tell me, are you happy with her? HENRY. [Startled; stares at her intently.] No, no . . . you ought not to ask me that. OCEANA. Why not? HENRY. [In a low voice.] Because you know. OCEANA. Yes, that's true. [A pause; she changes the subject.] I have heard my father speak of you often. HENRY. He remembered me, did he? I was only twenty when he went away. OCEANA. He said that he taught you to play single-stick. HENRY. Ah yes, to be sure! OCEANA. He taught me also. HENRY. You? OCEANA. It was our favorite game. HENRY. It's a rather rough game for a woman. OCEANA. I love it. We'll have a bout. HENRY. I'm afraid . . . I don't think I could. OCEANA. Why not? HENRY. [Laughs.] I should find it a psychical impossibility to hit a woman. OCEANA. You might find it a physical impossibility in this case. [With sudden excitement.] Why, my trunks have come! We could have a go before dinner. Couldn't we, Freddy? FREDDY. I suppose so. OCEANA. Oh, it's just what I'm pining for! To get my blood stirring again! And you, too . . . surely you must be chafing, out of patience! [She stops abruptly.] Oh! MRS. MASTERSON. [Enters left.] Henry! HENRY. Yes? MRS. MASTERSON. When did you get here? HENRY. Just a minute ago. MRS. MASTERSON. You've met Anna, I see. OCEANA. Yes, Aunt Sophronia . . . we're getting along famously. MRS. MASTERSON. Letitia's looking for you, HENRY. HENRY. Where is she? MRS. MASTERSON. She went home to find you. HENRY. Humph! I came here for her. MRS. MASTERSON. She wants you at once. HENRY. All right. Good-bye, Oceana. OCEANA. Until later. [HENRY exit centre with MRS. MASTERSON.] OCEANA. So that is Henry! Tell me, Ethel, have they any children? ETHEL. Yes . . . two. OCEANA. How long have they been married? ETHEL. Six years. OCEANA. Six years! And is he really happy? ETHEL. Why . . . you know LETITIA. OCEANA. Yes, but I don't know HENRY. ETHEL. [Laughs.] I guess he's so-so. Like most of us. OCEANA. [Half to herself.] I'll find out for myself. ['Phone rings; FREDDY rises.] What's that? It's the 'phone. [Rises.] I hadn't noticed it before! How interesting! ETHEL. That's so! You never saw one? FREDDY. [At 'phone.] Hello! Yes, this is Mrs. Masterson's. This is her son. Can't I take the message? Oh, from Miss Pilkington. Oh! Why, that's too bad! Why no, of course not. Tell Miss Pilkington we're as sorry as can be! No, I'll attend to it. Good-bye. [Turns.] Miss Pilkington can't come! ETHEL. What? FREDDY. She's slipped in the snow and hurt her ankle. ETHEL. Oh, Freddy! OCEANA. What a shame! [They stare at one another.] ETHEL. Was that she at the 'phone? FREDDY. No, her maid. She's laid up. ETHEL. What in the world will we do? FREDDY. It's too late to notify people. ETHEL. How perfectly beastly! FREDDY. I'll go tell mother. OCEANA. No, wait! FREDDY. What is it? OCEANA. I've an idea. FREDDY. What? OCEANA. Why not let ME take her place? ETHEL. How do you mean? OCEANA. Let me dance! ETHEL. Oh! OCEANA. Why not? I'd love to do it. ETHEL. Oceana! You'd do the Sunrise Dance? OCEANA. Yes; and then if they liked it, I could do some others. ETHEL. Oh, Oceana! How perfectly lovely! But . . . but I wonder if it would be all right. I mean . . . it wouldn't shock them? OCEANA. Why should it, my dear? ETHEL. Is it what they'd call proper? OCEANA. Why, of course, ETHEL. How ridiculous! It isn't a sex-dance. It's religious. FREDDY. And the costume? OCEANA. Oh, the costume is beautiful. ETHEL. Then I'll ask mother. [Starts to go.] OCEANA. Wait. Will Henry be there? ETHEL. Of course. OCEANA. Are you sure? ETHEL. Of course. OCEANA. [Eagerly.] Why ask your mother at all? Why not just go ahead and do it? ETHEL. Oceana! OCEANA. Why not? She'd only worry meantime. So let's just wait, and I'll go ahead. ETHEL. Oh, would you dare? OCEANA. Why, of course! She needn't know until almost time. Is this Miss Pilkington known here? ETHEL. No, she's never been in Boston before. FREDDY. Mother met her in London. She promised she'd do her famous Biblical Dances for mother's pet foundling asylum. OCEANA. Well, don't you see? Most of the people wouldn't know till it was all over! And oh, Ethel, it would be such a lark! [ETHEL and FREDDY gaze at each other dubiously.] Who was going to play for Miss Pilkington ? ETHEL. I was. OCEANA. Well, then, you can play for me! You see, Ethel, I'm afraid to tell your mother . . . she mightn't be willing. She wants to suppress me, and oh, I just can't be suppressed! I must have something to do or I'll jump out of my skin, ETHEL. Truly, my dear, if this goes on much longer, I'll go out and climb the telegraph pole in front of the house! And if I can only make an impression with my dancing, then I may choose that for my career. I've been thinking of it seriously . . . it's one way, that people might let me preach joy and health to them. If I can't do that, I'll go off and turn into a suffragette, or join the Anarchists, or something worse! ETHEL. Freddy, what do you say? FREDDY. I'll stand my share of the racket. OCEANA. Oh, come on! I'm just wild for some kind of mischief! I could dance like the grandmother of all the witches! Come, let's practice some. Play for me, Ethel! Play! [Pushes her toward the piano; raises her hands in triumph; whispers.] Henry! [CURTAIN] _ |
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