Time—Late afternoon.

Place—In the mountains of Cornwall-on-Hudson—the Hucksteppe house.

Scene—The inner room of the Hucksteppe cottage.

To the left, in the back wall, a large window overlooks a garden. Right centre, a door leads off into a bedroom, and from the bedroom one may see the woods of the mountain. The door is slightly open, showing a glimpse of a tall mirror and the polished pole of a bed.

In the right wall there is a fireplace.

A dog lies across the threshold, asleep, head on paws.

About this room there is perhaps just a little too much of a certain kind of frail beauty of object. Crystal glasses, scent bottles, bowls of an almost too perfect design, furniture that is too antiquely beautiful.

Helena Hucksteppe, a woman of about thirty-five, stands almost back view to the audience, one arm lying along the mantel. She is rather under medium in height. Her hair, which is dark and curling, is done carefully about a small fine head. She is dressed in a dark, long gown, a gown almost too faithful to the singular sadness of her body.

At about the same moment as the curtain’s rising, Gheid Storm vaults the window-sill. He is a man of few years, a well-to-do man of property, brought up very carefully by upright women, the son of a conscientious physician, the kind of man who commutes with an almost religious fervour, and who keeps his wife and his lawns in the best possible trim, without any particular personal pleasure.

Gheid is tall, but much too honourable to be jaunty, he is decidedly masculine. He walks deliberately, getting all the use possible out of his boot-leather, his belt-strap and hat-bands.

His face is one of those which, for fear of misuse, has not been used at all.

Helena Hucksteppe does not appear to be in the least astonished at his mode of entrance.

Gheid Storm—As you never let me in at the door, I thought of the window. [Helena remains silent.] I hope I did not startle you. [Pause.] Women are better calm, that is, some kinds of calm——

Helena—Yes?

Gheid—[Noticing the dog, which has not stirred.] You’ve got funny dogs, they don’t even bark. [Pause.] I expected you’d set them on me; however, perhaps that will come later——

Helena—Perhaps.

Storm—Are you always going to treat me like this? For days I’ve watched you walking with your dogs of an evening—that little black bullpup, and then those three setters—you’ve fine ways with you Helena Hucksteppe, though there are many tales of how you came by them——

Helena—Yes?

Storm—Yes. [Pause.] You know, you surprise me.

Helena—Why? Because I do not set my dogs on you?

Storm—Something like that.

Helena—I respect my dogs.

Storm—What does that mean?

Helena—Had I a daughter, would I set her on every man?

Storm—[Trying to laugh.] That’s meant for an insult, isn’t it? Well, I like the little insulting women——

Helena—You are a man of taste.

Storm—I respect you.

Helena—What kind of a feeling is that?

Storm—A gentleman’s——

Helena—I see.

Storm—People say of you: “She has a great many ways——”

Helena—Yes?

Storm—[Sitting on the edge of the table.] “But none of them simple.”

Helena—Do they?

Storm—[Without attempting to hide his admiration.] I’ve watched your back: “There goes a fine woman, a fine silent woman; she wears long skirts, but she knows how to move her feet without kicking up a dust—a woman who can do that, drives a man mad.” In town there’s a story that you come through once every Spring, driving a different man ahead of you with a riding whip; another has it, that you come in the night——

Helena—In other words, the starved women of the town are beginning to eat.

Storm—[Pause.] Well [laughs] I like you.

Helena—I do not enjoy the spectacle of men ascending.

Storm—What are you trying to say?

Helena—I’m saying it.

Storm—[After an awkward pause.] Do—you wish me to—go away?

Helena—You will go.

Storm—Why won’t you let me talk to you?

Helena—Any man may accomplish anything he’s capable of.

Storm—Do you know how I feel about you?

Helena—Perfectly.

Storm—I have heard many things about your—your past—— I believe none of them——

Helena—Quite right, why should you mix trades?

Storm—What do you mean by that?

Helena—Why confuse incapability with accomplishment——

Storm—It’s strange to see a woman like you turning to the merely bitter——

Helena—I began beyond bitterness.

Storm—Why do you treat me this way?

Helena—How would you have me treat you?

Storm—There was one night when you seemed to know, have you forgotten? A storm was coming up, the clouds were rolling overhead—and you, you yourself started it. You kissed me.

Helena—You say it was about to storm?

Storm—Yes.

Helena—It even looked like rain?

Storm—Yes.

Helena—[Quickly in a different voice.] It was a dark night, and I ended it.

Storm—What have I done?

Helena—You have neglected to make any beginning in the world—can I help that?

Storm—I offer you a clean heart.

Helena—Things which have known only one state, do not interest me.

Storm—Helena!

Helena—Gheid Storm.

Storm—I have a son; I don’t know why I should tell you about him, perhaps because I want to prove that I have lived, and perhaps not. My son is a child, I am a man of few years and my son is like what I was at his age. He is thin, I was thin; he is quiet, I was quiet; he has delicate flesh, and I had also—well, then his mother died——

Helena—The saddle comes down from the horse.

Storm—Well, she died——

Helena—And that’s over.

Storm—Well, there it is, I have a son——

Helena—And that’s not over. Do you resent that?

Storm—I don’t know, perhaps. Sometimes I say to myself when I’m sitting by the fire alone—“You should have something to think of while sitting here——”

Helena—In other words, you’re living for the sake of your fire.

Storm—[To himself.] Some day I shall be glad I knew you.

Helena—You go rather fast.

Storm—Yes, I shall have you to think of.

Helena—When the fire is hot, you’ll be glad to think of me?

Storm—Yes, all of us like to have a few things to tell to our children, and I have always shown all that’s in my heart to my son.

Helena—How horrible!

Storm—[Startled.] Why?

Helena—Would you show everything that made your heart?

Storm—I believe in frankness——

Helena—[With something like anger.] Well, some day your son will blow his head off, to be rid of frankness, before his skin is tough.

Storm—You are not making anything easier.

Helena—I’ve never been callous enough to make things easier.

Storm—You’re a queer woman——

Helena—Yes, that does describe me.

Storm—[Taking his leg off the table.] Do you really want to know why I came? Because I need you——

Helena—I’m not interested in corruption for the many.

Storm—[Starting as if he had been struck.] By God!

Helena—Nor in misplaced satisfactions——

Storm—By God, what a woman!

Helena—Nor do I participate in liberations——

Storm—[In a low voice.] I could hate you!

Helena—I limit no man, feel what you can.

Storm—[Taking a step toward her, the dog lifts its head.] If it were not for those damned dogs of yours—I’d—I’d——

Helena—Aristocracy of movement never made a dog bite——

Storm—That’s a—strange thing to say—just at this moment.

Helena—Not for me.

Storm—[Sulky.] Well, anyway, a cat may look at a King——

Helena—Oh no, a cat may only look at what it sees.

Storm—Helena Hucksteppe.

Helena—Yes.

Storm—I’m—attracted—to you.

Helena—A magnet does not attract shavings.

Storm—[With positive conviction.] I could hate you.

Helena—I choose my enemies.

Storm—[Without warning, seizing her.] By God, at least I can kiss you! [He kisses her full on the mouth—she makes no resistance.]

Helena—[In a calm voice.] And this, I suppose, is what you call the “great moment of human contact.”

Storm—[Dropping his arms—turning pale.] What are you trying to do to me?

Helena—I’m doing it.

Storm—[To himself.] Yet it was you that I wanted——

Helena—Mongrels may not dig up buried treasure.

Storm—[In a sudden rage.] You can bury your past as deep as you like, but carrion will out!

Helena—[Softly.] And this is love.

Storm—[His head in his arms.] Oh, God, God!

Helena—And you who like the taste of new things, come to me?

Storm—[In a lost voice.] Shall I have no joy?

Helena—Joy? Oh, yes, of a kind.

Storm—And you—are angry with me?

Helena—In the study of science, is the scientist angry when the fly possesses no amusing phenomena?

Storm—I wanted—to know—you——

Helena—I am conscious of your failure.

Storm—I wanted something—some sign——

Helena—Must I, who have spent my whole life in being myself, go out of my way to change some look in you?

Storm—That’s why you are so terrible, you have spent all your life on yourself.

Helena—Yes, men do resent that in women.

Storm—Yes, I suppose so. [Pause.] I should have liked to talk of—myself——

Helena—You see I could not listen.

Storm—You are—intolerant.

Helena—No—occupied——

Storm—You are probably—playing a game.

Helena—[With a gracious smile.] You will get some personal good out of it, won’t you?

Storm—I’m uncomfortable——

Helena—Uncomfortable!

Storm—[Beginning to be really uncomfortable.] Who are you?

Helena—I am a woman, Gheid Storm, who is not in need.

Storm—You’re horrible!

Helena—Yes, that too.

Storm—But somewhere you’re vulnerable.

Helena—Perhaps.

Storm—Only I don’t quite know the spot.

Helena—Spot?

Storm—Something, somewhere, hidden——

Helena—Hidden! [She laughs.] All of me is vulnerable.

Storm—[Setting his teeth.] You tempt me.

Helena—[Wearily.] It’s not that kind.

Storm—I’ve lain awake thinking of you—many nights.

Helena—That is too bad.

Storm—What is too bad?

Helena—That you have had—fancies.

Storm—Why?

Helena—Theft of much, makes much to return——

Storm—The world allows a man his own thoughts.

Helena—Oh, no——

Storm—At least my thoughts are my own.

Helena—Not one, so far.

Storm—What does that mean?

Helena—You’ll know when you try to think them again.

Storm—You mean I’m not making headway—well, you’re right, I’m not——

Helena—Now tell me what brought you through the window.

Storm—[Relieved.] I’m glad you ask that, it’s the first human thing that’s happened this afternoon.

Helena—You have forgotten our great moment of human contact.

Storm—[Nervously.] Well——

Helena—You were about to tell me what brought you?

Storm—I don’t know—something no one speaks of—some great ease in your back—the look of a great lover——

Helena—So—you scented a great lover——

Storm—I am a man—and I love——

Helena—What have you done for love, Gheid Storm?

Storm—I’ve—never gone to the dogs——

Helena—So?

Storm—I’ve always respected women.

Helena—In other words: taken the coals out of the fire with the poker—continue——

Storm—That’s all.

Helena—And you dared to come to me! [Her entire manner has changed.]

Storm—No matter what you’ve been—done—I love you.

Helena—Do not come so near. Only those who have helped to make such death as mine may go a little way toward the ardours of that decay.

Storm—What have I done?

Helena—You have dared to bring to a woman, who has known love, the whinny of a pauper.

Storm—What am I?

Helena—[Softly, to herself.] How sensitively the handles cling to the vase, how delicate is the flesh between the fingers.

Storm—I—I don’t know you.

Helena—[Dropping her hands to her sides.] Come here, Gheid Storm—[Gheid approaches slowly, like a sleep walker]. Put your hand on me. [He does so as if in a dream.] So! [She looks first at his hand, then into his face, making it quite plain that he does not even know how to touch a woman.] Yet you would be my lover, knowing not one touch that is mine, nor one word that is mine. My house is for men who have done their stumbling.

Storm—[In an inaudible voice.] I am going now——

Helena—I cannot touch new things, nor see beginnings.

Storm—Helena! Helena!

Helena—Do not call my name. There are too many names that must be called before mine.

Storm—Shall I die, and never have known you?

Helena—Death, for you, will begin where my cradle started rocking——

Storm—Shall I have no love like yours?

Helena—When I am an old woman, thinking of other things, you will, perhaps, be kissing a woman like me——

Storm—[Moving blindly toward the door.] Now I am going.

Helena—[In a quiet, level voice.] The fall is almost here.

Storm—Yes, it’s almost here.

Helena—The leaves on the mountain road are turning yellow.

Storm—Yes, the leaves are turning.

Helena—It’s late, your son will be waiting dinner for you.

Storm—Don’t take everything away.

Helena—You will not even recall having seen me.

Storm—Can memory be taken too?

Helena—Only that memory that goes past recollection may be kept.

Storm—[At the door.] Good night——

Helena—[Smiling.] There is the window.

Storm—I could not lift my legs now.

Helena—That’s a memory you may keep.

Storm—Good night.

Helena—Good-bye, Gheid Storm, and as you go down the hill, will you lock the gate, a dog thief passed in the night, taking my terrier with him.

Storm—The one with the brown spots?

Helena—Yes.

Storm—That was a fine dog.

Helena—Yes, she was a fine dog—restless.

Storm—They say any dog will follow any man who carries aniseed.

Helena—Well, soon I return to the city.

Storm—You look tired.

Helena—Yes, I am tired.

[Gheid exits. Helena takes her old position, her back almost square to the audience.]