Part 20 (1/2)

TOM: You're making me suffer, Claire.

CLAIRE: I know I am. I want to. Why shouldn't you suffer? (now seeing it more clearly than she has ever seen it) You know what I think about you? You're afraid of suffering, and so you stop this side-in what you persuade yourself is suffering, (waits, then sends it straight) You know-how it is-with me and d.i.c.k? (as she sees him suffer) Oh, no, I don't want to hurt you! Let it be you! I'll teach you-you needn't scorn it. It's rather wonderful.

TOM: Stop that, Claire! That isn't you.

CLAIRE: Why are you so afraid-of letting me be low-if that is low? You see-(cannily) I believe in beauty. I have the faith that can be bad as well as good. And you know why I have the faith? Because sometimes-from my lowest moments-beauty has opened as the sea. From a cave I saw immensity.

My love, you're going away- Let me tell you how it is with me; I want to touch you-somehow touch you once before I die- Let me tell you how it is with me.

I do not want to work, I want to be; Do not want to make a rose or make a poem- Want to lie upon the earth and know. (closes her eyes) Stop doing that!-words going into patterns; They do it sometimes when I let come what's there.

Thoughts take pattern-then the pattern is the thing.

But let me tell you how it is with me. (it flows again) All that I do or say-it is to what it comes from, A drop lifted from the sea.

I want to lie upon the earth and know.

But-scratch a little dirt and make a flower; Scratch a bit of brain-something like a poem. (covering her face) Stop doing that. Help me stop doing that!

TOM: (and from the place where she had carried him)

Don't talk at all. Lie still and know- And know that I am knowing.

CLAIRE:

Yes; but we are so weak we have to talk; To talk-to touch.

Why can't I rest in knowing I would give my life to reach you?

That has-all there is.

But I must-put my timid hands upon you, Do something about infinity.

Oh, let what will flow into us, And fill us full-and leave us still.

Wring me dry, And let me fill again with life more pure.

To know-to feel, And do nothing with what I feel and know- That's being good. That's nearer G.o.d.

(drenched in the feeling that has flowed through her-but surprised-helpless) Why, I said your thing, didn't I? Opened my life to bring you to me, and what came-is what sends you away.

TOM: No! What came is what holds us together. What came is what saves us from ever going apart. (brokenly) My beautiful one. You-you brave flower of all our knowing.

CLAIRE: I am not a flower. I am too torn. If you have anything-help me. Breathe, Breathe the healing oneness, and let me know in calm. (with a sob his head rests upon her)

CLAIRE: (her hands on his head, but looking far) Beauty-you pure one thing. Breathe-Let me know in calm. Then-trouble me, trouble me, for other moments-in farther calm. (slow, motionless, barely articulate)

TOM: (as she does not move he lifts his head. And even as he looks at her, she does not move, nor look at him) Claire-(his hand out to her, a little afraid) You went away from me then. You are away from me now.

CLAIRE: Yes, and I could go on. But I will come back, (it is hard to do. She brings much with her) That, too, I will give you-my by-myself-ness. That's the uttermost I can give. I never thought-to try to give it. But let us do it-the great sacrilege! Yes! (excited, she rises; she has his hands, and bring him up beside her) Let us take the mad chance! Perhaps it's the only way to save-what's there. How do we know? How can we know? Risk. Risk everything. From all that flows into us, let it rise! All that we never thought to use to make a moment-let it flow into what could be! Bring all into life between us-or send all down to death! Oh, do you know what I am doing? Risk, risk everything, why are you so afraid to lose? What holds you from me? Test all. Let it live or let it die. It is our chance-our chance to bear-what's there. My dear one-I will love you so. With all of me. I am not afraid now-of-all of me. Be generous. Be unafraid. Life is for life-though it cuts us from the farthest life. How can I make you know that's true? All that we're open to-(hesitates, shudders) But yes-I will, I will risk the life that waits. Perhaps only he who gives his loneliness-shall find. You never keep by holding, (gesture of giving) To the uttermost. And it is gone-or it is there. You do not know and-that makes the moment-(music has begun-a phonograph downstairs; they do not heed it) Just as I would cut my wrists-(holding them out) Yes, perhaps this lesser thing will tell it-would cut my wrists and let the blood flow out till all is gone if my last drop would make-would make-(looking at them fascinated) I want to see it doing that! Let me give my last chance for life to-

(He s.n.a.t.c.hes her-they are on the brink of their moment; now that there are no words the phonograph from downstairs is louder. It is playing languorously the Barcarole; they become conscious of this-they do not want to be touched by the love song.)

CLAIRE: Don't listen. That's nothing. This isn't that, (fearing) I tell you-it isn't that. Yes, I know-that's amorous-enclosing. I know-a little place. This isn't that, (her arms going around him-all the lure of 'that' while she pleads against it as it comes up to them) We will come out-to radiance-in far places (admitting, using) Oh, then let it be that! Go with it. Give up-the otherness. I will! And in the giving up-perhaps a door-we'd never find by searching. And if it's no more-than all have known, I only say it's worth the allness! (her arms wrapped round him) My love-my love-let go your pride in loneliness and let me give you joy!

TOM: (drenched in her pa.s.sion, but fighting) It's you. (in anguish) You rare thing untouched-not-not into this-not back into this-by me-lover of your apartness.