________________________________________________
_ ACT IV SCENE I
Scene I: An old bookstore, New York. Bookseller arranging
books. Helen at one side looking over shelves. Poe enters.
He wears a military cloak and jaunty cap. Throws book on
table and whistles carelessly.
Bookseller.
(Looking book over doubtfully)
Forty cents.
Poe.
(Loudly)
Forty devils!
(Helen turns and recognizes him. He does not see her)
Look at that binding. You can't get a Shelley put
up like that for less than ten dollars.
Hel.
(Aside)
My book!
Bookseller.
It's badly marked.
Poe.
Marked! Of course it's marked. And every mark there worth
its dollar. In ten years you'll wish the marks were as
thick as the letters.
Bookseller.
Say fifty, and strike off. Not a cent more.
Poe.
Take it.
Hel.
To sell my book!
(Moves slowly to door)
How pale he is! But he is neatly dressed. He can
not need fifty cents. To sell my book! I'll speak
to him and see if he is past shame.
(Steps before Poe as he turns to go out)
Hel.
Mr. Poe! Don't you remember me?
'Tis delightful to meet an old friend.
Poe.
(Bowing low)
Mrs....
Hel.
Yes, I am Mrs. Bridgmore.
Poe.
My dear Mrs. Bridgmore! The pleasure of years gathers in
this happy moment. Are you making holiday purchases?
Hel.
No ... just poking about. I love these old stores. I see
you've made a sale. 'Tis a relief to get rid of old books
when we've lost our love for them, isn't it? They take up
good room on our shelves pretty much as people do in our
lives long after we have ceased to care for their
friendship. But what one is weary of another is ready to
take up.
(To bookseller)
May I see the book the gentleman has just disposed of?
(To Poe)
Anything you have liked will be sure to please me.
Poe.
O, you are mistaken! I am simply leaving the book to be
duplicated if possible for a friend of mine who has taken
a fancy to my copy.
(Gesticulates to bookseller)
One glance, Mrs. Bridgmore, will tell you that the
book is not for sale.
Hel.
Ah ... of course not. Pardon the mistake. It seems to be
my fate to blunder where you are concerned.
(Icily)
Good morning, Mr. Poe.
(As she is going out she drops her purse. Poe hastens to
pick it up and restores it to her with a bow. In doing so
he forgets his shabby coat and throws back his cloak over
his arm, exposing a badly worn sleeve. He becomes suddenly
conscious of her observation, and straightens up in his
most dignified fashion)
Hel.
Thank you.
(Goes out)
Poe.
(Turning to bookseller)
Here! Take your damned silver!
Give me my book!
Bookseller.
A bargain's a bargain, sir.
Poe.
Bargain! bargain! Do you call that theft a bargain? You
parasite! you bookgnat! You insect feeding on men's
brains! You worm in the corpse of genius! My book, I say,
or by Hector I'll tear your goose-liver from your body,
you pocket-itching Jacob!
Bookseller.
Here! take it!
Poe.
There's your Judas' blood!
(Throws down money and starts
out with the book. Enter Brackett)
Brackett.
(Stopping Poe)
Mr. Poe, I believe.
Poe.
Right, sir. And Brackett, I think your name was when I
knew you.
Bra.
Quite right, Mr. Poe. I saw you coming in here, and though
you have changed somewhat with the help of years I was
sure it was you.
Poe.
And how, Mr. Brackett, may that knowledge be of interest
to you?
Bra.
Well, perhaps it does concern you more than myself.
Poe.
Kindly tell me in what way that I may regret it.
Bra.
Your pen has been supplying matter for The Comet, I
believe.
Poe.
If you have any doubt of it a perusal of that magazine's
issues for the past two years will satisfy you.
Bra.
The returns therefrom have contributed somewhat to your
comfort, I suppose.
Poe.
Do you?
Bra.
Ah, I am mistaken? Then I have less hesitation to tell you
that the articles recently submitted are unavailable.
Poe.
You tell me! What have you to do with it? Who are you?
Bra.
I am the present editor of The Comet.
Poe.
You!
Bra.
I! You see I am in a position to speak with
authority,--and it is only just to tell you that your
articles will meet with no further recognition in that
quarter.
Poe.
Brackett ... I have been very ill. I wrote those things on
what I believed to be my death bed. My wife....
Bra.
I should say then that you are in great need of money.
Poe.
God help me, I am! You know I am not one to beg!
Bra.
But it's beg or starve with you, eh? (Poe looks at him
silently) Well, I should advise you to make application
without loss of time to some one who does not know you
quite so well as the new editor of The Comet. Good
morning.
Poe.
(Calling to him as he stands in door)
I say, Brackett!
(Brackett turns)
I should advise you to change the name of
The Comet as well as its editor. Suppose you
call it The Falling Star? Ha! ha!
(Exit Brackett)
Curse me for a whining dog--but Virginia--
(Goes out)
Bookseller.
(Arranging books)
Queer chap. We public men get to know all sorts.
That book will be mine yet. It's a good
seller at ten dollars, and blest if I wouldn't like to
help the wretch out with fifty cents. He'll be back.
(Enter Helen)
Hel.
I wish to buy the book the gentleman has just left with you.
Bookseller.
Why ma'am, he's gone and took it with him.
Hel.
Took it with him?
Bookseller.
Yes, ma'am, and thereby I've lost time and trade.
(Aside)
She'd give fifteen!
Hel.
He needed money?
Bookseller.
Well, I should guess so, ma'am. That's the last
book he had. He told me about it before. He's been
bringin' them all here. I think he'll be back, ma'am,
and I'll keep the book for you.
Hel.
Thank you.
(Turns to go. Sees letter on the floor and
picks it up)
Why, 'tis ... he dropped it! I wonder if I
may ... he is suffering ... that shabby coat ... and
he is so proud. I think I ought to read it. I must
know where to find him.
(Looks at letter)
Fordham!
(Reads)
My Dear Son: One last prayer the mother of your
Virginia makes to you. She is dying. Come and sit by
her and she will carry a smile to her grave. Do not
stay away because you can not bear to witness her
suffering,--because you have nothing to give her.
Come, and by your loving presence lessen her pain.
God bless you! Your devoted mother,
MARIA CLEMM.
(Helen stands trembling and holding the letter) ...
And I hurt him ... I hurt him....
(CURTAIN) _
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