  Title: The Ghetto A Drama in Four Acts Author: Herman Heijermans Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 E-text prepared by Frank van Drogen, David E. Brown, | |||||||||||
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THE GHETTO
Plays
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THE PRINCESS MALEINE, and THE INTRUDER. By Maurice Maeterlinck. With an Introduction by Hall Caine, and a Portrait of the Author. Small 4to, cloth, 5s.
THE FRUITS OF ENLIGHTENMENT: By Count Lyof Tolstoy. With Introduction by A. W. Pinero. Small 4to, with Portrait, 5s.
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LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
21 Bedford Street, W.C.
THE GHETTO
A DRAMA
In Four Acts
Freely Adapted from the Dutch of
HERMAN HEIJERMANS, Jr.
By
CHESTER BAILEY FERNALD
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
MDCCCXCIX
Copyright, 1899
All rights, including Acting rights in the English Language, reserved
Entered at the Library of Congress
Washington, U.S.A.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
| Rafael. Sachel. Aaron. Rabbi Haezer. Samson. Daniel. Mordecai. Esther. Rebecca. Rosa. |
A Watchman. Inhabitants of The Ghetto.
The action takes place in The Ghetto, Amsterdam, at the present time.
The incidental music composed by Mr. N. Clifford Page.
PREFACE
In the not wholly grateful task of adapting this play to the present demands of the English and American stage, partly as those demands have been interpreted by others than me, numerous alterations have been thought necessary. I hope that this adaptation does not conceal the fact that Mr. Heijermans' original is a work of very admirable unity and force.
CHESTER B. FERNALD.
September, 1899.
THE GHETTO
THE FIRST ACT
Scene: A street in the Ghetto in Amsterdam. On the left the shop of Sachel. Running down from the centre to the right, diagonally, the wall of a canal; a bridge across the canal; a vista of the river and the city at the back.
Enter Samson and Daniel.
Samson.
Have trade and traffic gone to bed for Sabbath?
Daniel.
Not till old Sachel shuts his shop. See, he sits there in the gloom like a spider waiting in its web. He would keep open all night for two cents.
He's waiting for his son. What if the old man knew that Rafael spent half his time composing music—music for which he gets nothing? He would lock the door on Rafael to-night.
Daniel.
Let him! The world shall hear from Rafael. Wait till we play his music.
Samson.
But he still has time to devote to his father's Christian servant-maid.
Daniel.
Eh—you have noticed too? [They look into the shop.] Ah, see her! I say, she's the handsomest in Amsterdam—high or low! You had better be careful what you say about her to Rafael.
Samson.
I am. When I spoke a trifle lightly of her, he offered to smash my head with your 'cello.
Daniel.
And you apologized?
Not wanting it smashed.
Daniel.
Meaning your head.
Samson.
No, meaning your 'cello. But I shall proceed with her. She is unhappy—I think she needs me!
Enter Mordecai, with a piece of lace, by way of the bridge. He goes into the shop.
I thought we had done with trade in this street. There goes an old sheep to pawn his fleece. I say—bah!
Daniel.
So will the old sheep say "Bah!" when Sachel has shorn him. See the old man feeling it over—they say he can tell brass from gold by the touch of his talons.
Samson.
It is well the old man is blind; if he saw the look of disgust on the girl's face—ay, she'd like to rush out in the air!
If she hates trade so, why does she stay in the Ghetto?
Samson.
She has nowhere else to go—she doesn't appear to want to get away. Are they cursing each other over a copper? See the curl of her lip! Look! look!
[Rosa rushes out of the shop.
Rosa.
[As if stifling.] Oh! oh! they have no souls—there is not a soul among them, save Rafael's!
[She sees Daniel and Samson.
Samson.
Good evening!
Rosa.
[Coldly.] Good evening.
Samson.
It's a fine evening, isn't it?
Rosa.
No.
Samson.
No, I suppose not. Is Rafael at home?
No.
Samson.
No—he stays away, he is in love?
Daniel.
With whom?
Samson.
With somebody—somebody. I read between the notes of his music. He's fallen in love and he's put it all into music. [Insinuatingly.] Do you know who she is?
Rosa.
[She gets a broom and begins to sweep.] How should I, a Christian, be so deep in his confidence?
Samson.
As deep in his confidence as need be. But do not trust him too much. Ah—[quasi-regretful]—and I am his friend. But it is love that has made a fool of me.
Rosa.
No, I should not lay it to the door of love.
Samson.
It is love. If I could look into such eyes as yours, and my heart not smoke like—like a burning haycock, then I should be more fool than now.
Rosa.
You could not be. With whom do you mean to insinuate that Rafael is carrying on a love affair?
Samson.
Oh, not you!
Rosa.
Oh! With whom, then?
Samson.
[Whispering.] To-morrow, when you are alone——
[He pauses, hearing Sachel in the shop.
Sachel.
No, no!
Mordecai.
But——
Sachel.
No, no, no!
Enter Mordecai, followed by Sachel.
Mordecai.
Half a guilder! Half a guilder! Oh! if it isn't worth four guilders, it is worth nothing.
[He begins to roll up his lace.
If it is worth four guilders to you, keep it. H'm! Because I am blind, cannot I feel with my fingers? No, it is tatters.
Mordecai.
It's beautiful. I leave it to any one.
Sachel.
So do I. I leave it to Rosa; she's a Christian, she knows nothing about trade. Rosa!
Rosa.
[Coming to him.] Yes.
Sachel.
Am I not right? Is it not charity to offer him half a guilder for that lace?
Daniel.
[Mischievously.] A beautiful piece of lace!
Samson.
A splendid piece of lace; he could not have come honestly by that!
I have not summoned every idler in the street. Rosa!
[Exeunt Daniel and Samson.
Mordecai.
[Whispering to Rosa.] My son is dead, how can I bury him without money? It was his mother's—the only fragment I have left of hers——
Sachel.
I hear you; is he giving you something?
Rosa.
[In compassion.] It is not so badly worn; surely it is worth four guilders!
Sachel.
You lie! I say you lie! Do you think you can make a fool of me—you thieves! Ah, I know you are standing there, twisting your cheeks at me! But you shall not rob me; no, no! Give me that! [He takes the lace and examines it with his fingers.] I knew it! It has been patched—by some bag-maker. You minx—you hussy! Do I feed you that you may rob me? Everybody lies to me—but they do not deceive me! I will not give half a guilder—only thirty cents.
Sachel! I must have two guilders! He died in my arms. You have a son—for pity's sake—for pity's sake!
Sachel.
Have you had pity on my eyes? You say this lace is whole; it is a lie. You say your son is dead; that is a lie too, for all I know. I'll give no more—no more.
Mordecai.
Oh! Oh! Give me that! You black-hearted miser. [He snatches it.] You are rich—you have known me for years—and you would let my son be buried in the pauper's field! A curse on you! May your son live to hate you—desert you—disown you—curse you, as I do!
[Exit Mordecai.
Sachel.
Rosa! Run and offer him a guilder and a half! Run!
Rosa.
Mordecai! He will not stop! He's gone!
Sachel.
With a curse! Could I be more cursed than I am? Come here. You have driven the trade from my door.
I?
Sachel.
Yes, you—you misbegotten wretch! Had you not whined and pleaded for him, he would have taken a guilder. If you, too, had said, "Tatters! nothing but tatters." Why did you not?
Rosa.
Because I will not lie for you!
Sachel.
I employ you to do my bidding! What are you doing now—idling, wasting precious time? [Rosa begins to sweep.] In the middle of last night—were you up?
Rosa.
No!
Sachel.
[Ironically.] You will not lie for me! Why are you so disturbed about it?
Rosa.
I am not disturbed.
Sachel.
I say you are. You are red in the face—I know it. Why were you up?
I was not up.
Sachel.
I heard you! I heard you, and you cannot deceive me. Did I not lie awake until Rafael came home? It struck twelve as he went to his room. It was not five minutes later when I hear steps along the hall—yes, I can hear steps, though the shoes be off! I heard steps, and then your door opened. Why do you stop? I heard your door open; what does it mean?
Rosa.
Do you mean that—that some one came—some one opened my door?
Sachel.
Some one—some one! I mean you—you opened it—and you went downstairs. Why? What were you doing while you thought I slept?
Rosa.
I did not leave my room.
Sachel.
And she will not lie for me! If you are honest, why does your voice tremble so? You were up, and why? If I miss anything;—do you want to be turned into the streets? [He hears the noise of a window opening.] Who's that? Some fresh enemy? I cannot move but some one's hand is raised against me! Enemies—enemies I cannot strike nor battle with—because I cannot see!
Rosa.
I—I am not your enemy!
Sachel.
How do I know? Have I ever looked into your eyes? Ay, if I could look into them at this moment, God knows what I should find. You are not my enemy! Why, then, were you up last night prowling about my house—at midnight—when my son—when Rafael;—Rafael—? Come here! [She comes to him.] Your hand! Was it Rafael? Did Rafael—? No, no, my beautiful boy—with such as you—an ugly, misshapen wench like you! [Pause.] Unless—unless they lied to me! Did not Esther sniff and say that you were white and thin, when we rescued you from pauperdom—when you were threatened with the streets—you thankless vagabond? They knew I would not have had you else! Rafael said that "pretty" was no word for such a face as yours; did he mean that you were beautiful;—did he mean that? Your form—yes, your form! [He passes his hand over her.] Hold still! Do you fear an old blind wreck like me? Ay, you are like a Madonna, damn you! Your face—hold still—your nose—[he passes his hand over her face]—your brow—your chin;—they lied to me! You are beautiful! It was Rafael!
Rosa.
What do you mean? I tell you I am not beautiful!
Sachel.
Are you ugly? Do you swear you are ugly?
Rosa.
You cannot see the colour of my skin—you cannot see the rings under my eyes.
Sachel.
You swear—do you swear you are not beautiful?
Rosa.
I may have been pretty once—but now——
[She is silent.
Sachel.
[Thoughtfully.] When she says that—h'm! H'm! No woman would deny her beauty if she had it. No, no! H'm! Rafael—my beautiful boy; why, I only mentioned it to frighten you!
Enter Esther, over the bridge.
Esther.
What's the matter now—you troublesome old person?
Sachel.
My sister—my compassionate sister! H'm! I know you're waiting, watching my face from day to day for a sign of death.
Esther.
You silly old man, does any one put a pin in your way?
Sachel.
Any one? Every one! Has she not just driven away a customer because she would not——
Esther.
I don't want to hear about it!
Sachel.
H'm! A little money—it is nothing! I have given my life for it—and my eyes—my eyes! By God's right, do not the blessings of thrift belong to me? And here I drag my gloomy, empty life away, with a son who brings me nothing, a sister who watches me like a vulture and this hussy who drives my customers to curse me!
Esther.
Who do you think gave me this letter for you? Aaron.
Sachel.
Aaron! He hasn't been near us for years! What does he want? Read!
Esther.
When the Sabbath has already begun?
Sachel.
Well, what do we have this Christian for? Rosa!
Enter Rosa.
Esther.
Rosa, open this letter and read it.
Rosa.
[Reading.] "I shall be at your house to-night, on a matter of business.—Aaron Heine."
[Exit Rosa.
Business? What business can he have with me?
Esther.
His daughter, I think. There was something in the way he spoke that made me feel it!
Sachel.
To marry his Rebecca to my son. H'm! I'll make him speak first. I'll worry him! I'll make him sweat.
Esther.
Rosa! Put up the shutters.
Sachel.
I will not trust her to put up the shutters.
Esther.
You never had a better servant in your house.
Sachel.
[Fetches shutters and awkwardly adjusts them.] She is a Christian. It is bad luck—it was wrong for us to take her in.
Esther.
You were glad enough to have her. Would a Jewess light your fire on Sabbath—would a Jewess open your letters for you? Shall I send her away?
Sachel.
Not yet.
Esther.
No. Because on Sabbath your feet would be cold and your letters would lie unopened, even if you were not blind. I pity the girl; I have heard that her father was a gentleman and died poor and in exile, because he had given succour to the persecuted Jews.
Enter Rosa.
Sachel.
Who can prove it? It is a good story to work upon our sympathies. They cannot deceive me. I will have no sympathies.
Esther.
[To Rosa.] Isn't it warm.
[They look off over the river.
Rosa.
But aren't those clouds beautiful? They are bringing a blessed rain; but they lower as if they brought a pestilence.
You call them beautiful? You know very well that we are speculating in produce: if the drought keeps on the rich will have to pay dear for their vegetables, and the poor won't have any; it will profit us handsomely! And you only think of your own pleasure!
Rosa.
It was only the beauty, the majesty of the clouds; they are massed together like enemies ready to destroy us. But the poor; ah, I can see the hand of God in those clouds!
Esther.
Which God, Rosa?
Rosa.
The God of all peoples, of all faiths—the God who knows no ceremony but the way of living, and no creed but what He plants in the hearts of every one.
Esther.
You are a strange sort of Christian! You talk like Rafael! [Exit Rosa, as if to avoid the subject.] I wonder if she ever talks with Rafael! Sachel, I see Aaron!
I'll make him speak first.
Enter Aaron.
Aaron.
[To Sachel.] Good evening. [No answer.] What's the matter with you, old friend? I have a bit of business with you.
Esther.
Good evening. Rather late for business, isn't it? Sit down.
Aaron.
It's never too late for business. It was never too early when we were young—eh, Sachel? Do you remember forty years ago, when you and I and Abram stood in line at two o'clock in the morning—to get the best places at the sale? Poverty wasn't trumps then, as it is now.
Esther.
H'm! I fancy not with you, now.
Sachel.
What did you come about?
Aaron.
Eh? Well, I have something I think you'll want.
What?
Aaron.
Eh? Why, some wool, I'll sell it cheap. Feel that! As soft as my daughter's cheek!
[Gives Sachel a packet of wool.
Sachel.
[Returning the packet.] I didn't think you'd have anything I wanted.
Esther.
No; it wouldn't interest us. Have some coffee, Rosa!
Aaron.
You think it is not good. You don't know! That wool was bought by my daughter, Rebecca, and I'll back her judgment against any man's in the Ghetto! [Gives a little to Sachel.] Feel that!
Sachel.
[Breaking the fibres, and listening to the sound they make.] His daughter! Cotton! More cotton! His daughter!
Aaron.
I will match her with your son, any day!
My son is in no hurry to marry.
Aaron.
Marry? I meant as a judge of wool. You are the only one that's thinking of marrying him. What's the matter—doesn't any girl's father want him?
Sachel.
[Picking the wool apart.] H'm!
Aaron.
There is a keen demand for handsome young wives nowadays, judging from the way my daughter is besieged.
Sachel.
Your daughter? You speak as if she had had an offer.
Enter Rosa with the coffee.
Aaron.
H'm, an offer! But I came here to talk about wool! If it were not the Sabbath I would burn a little for you, and you could tell by the smell there is not a shred of cotton in it!
Let the Christian burn it for us, then. Rosa, light that!
[Rosa burns a little of the wool in the spirit lamp.
Aaron.
[Laughingly.] If you can smell cotton in that, then the sheep have been eating cotton-seed, and it has sprouted through their shins. Do you smell any cotton? Ah!
[Exit Rosa.
Sachel.
No; because I have picked all the cotton out. Rubbish!
Esther.
Have some coffee?
Aaron.
[Putting away packet of wool.] Oh, well, if you don't know a good thing when you see it. Ah! Those cakes of yours, Esther; I remember them, I remember them of old! Let me send my daughter to learn how to make them, will you?
Esther.
Certainly.
Aaron.
That's the only thing under the sky that my daughter can't do to perfection. Well, how is that son of yours?
Sachel.
Where is he, you had better ask! Unless I stay up till midnight, I never meet him.
Aaron.
Oh, well, a young fellow has to have his day I suppose.
Sachel.
Did I have my day? I was one of eight souls who crawled and starved in a room half as big as my shop parlour. I have known hunger to gnaw at my belly, till I cried myself to sleep, and dreamt that I was disembowelled. And my grandmother died, and my little sister too, from sheer want. Sheer want! At his age I could have bought and sold him twice a day. The fellow is a worthless vagabond!
Aaron.
H'm. I suppose, if the truth be said, he is a worthless vagabond!
Sachel.
You—what affair is it of yours? You would give half you have—and that wouldn't be much—to have him in your household!
Ha! My daughter has no haste to wed.
Sachel.
Who said anything about wedding? It is you that seem to have the subject on your mind.
Aaron.
With my girl? With Rebecca? You rely too much upon your son's good looks and upon the lot of money he will have.
Sachel.
Who said he would have a lot of money? I am not dead yet.
Aaron.
Even so, your only child is not going empty-handed.
Sachel.
He will go empty-handed, by the Commandments, if he does not obey his father! And, in any case, I have not slaved my eyes away that another man's child may be fed.
Enter Rebecca.
Aaron.
Still he must marry some day.
Marry whom? No girl who does not bring twelve thousand guilders shall marry my son!
[Exit Esther.
[Rebecca pauses at the bridge unobserved and interested.
Rebecca.
[Aside.] They are getting on!
Aaron.
[Swelling with indignation.] Twelve thousand guilders! Twelve thousand guilders! A snap of the finger! And is your son a prince? You talk like an imbecile. Suppose some one was fool enough to give his daughter such a dowry, what would you give your son?
Sachel.
Nothing! He has his share in the business—or will have.
Aaron.
Oh, you're enough to make a man jump into the sea!
Sachel.
Did I ask anything of you? Why should you jump into the sea?
Eh, what? Rebecca! How did you happen to be here?
Sachel.
[Ironically.] Yes, how did you happen to be here?
Rebecca.
Why, didn't you tell me——
Aaron.
[Waving her away.] We're talking business, Sachel and I!
Enter Esther.
Esther, those cakes are wonderful!
Esther.
Thanks! [To Rebecca.] Look here. [Showing a photograph—watching her closely.] Rafael is a good-looking boy, isn't he?
Rebecca.
Oh, you'd better let me have this! He wouldn't mind, would he? What a fine likeness—but so sad!
Esther.
That's for some nice girl to take out of him.
[Tapping the photograph.] And you'll let me——
Esther.
Have the picture? With pleasure! Have you seen Isaac's new warehouse?
[Points up the canal. Rebecca retires to the bridge.
[Sotto, to Aaron.] I like your girl—she's remarkably discreet. When she's married, you'll be lonely enough!
Aaron.
[Sotto.] And when she is married, Esther—[meaningly]—may I take me a wife on the same day; one that can bake such cakes as those! [Aloud.] Esther, there is not another woman in Amsterdam that can bake such cakes as those!
[The two exchange meaning glances; they advance on Sachel, as if now in alliance.
Rebecca.
[Aside.] I don't believe it was about me!
Aaron.
But, outside of that, Rebecca is a wonderful housewife, and in the shop—she brings me the trade!
H'm! She'll never bring you a son-in-law! For you can't spare money to give with her. You need it all in your business.
Aaron.
Do I? With my daughter there will go a trifle of eight thousand guilders.
[Pause.
Rebecca.
[Aside.] It is about me. They are getting on!
Aaron.
And he thinks a girl will bring his son a matter of twelve thousand guilders.
Enter Rosa; she shows that she has been listening and is troubled.
Sachel.
Let my son tell me he is going to marry a girl with less than twelve thousand! I would give him the choice of starvation. I would lock the door on him.
[Rosa sees the photograph in Rebecca's hand.
Aaron.
Who's talking of your son? My daughter—Esther, just look at her—such a figure, such a skin—such eyes! Esther, Esther, look at her walk! Look at her walk!
Rebecca.
Is Rafael at home?
Rosa.
No.
Esther.
Rafael and Rebecca—that would sound rather well!
Aaron.
My dear woman, I won't give twelve thousand guilders.
Sachel.
And I won't give my son at less!
Aaron.
Your son? Did I ask you for your son? Did I?
Sachel.
Did I ask you for your daughter? What is she to me?
Rebecca.
[Aside.] Oh, they are really getting on!
Aaron.
Oh, my daughter! I wish your son were her equal! If I had such a son——
I don't want your advice! [Rises.] You manage your own child. I'll manage mine.
[Starts for shop.
Aaron.
You will? You can't manage him. Where is he now? Dallying with some wanton, for all you know! My God, one would think him a second Joseph!
Sachel.
Do you house him? Do you feed him? Does he trouble you? Speak well of him, or go home!
Aaron.
I will go home!
Esther.
Sit down! Now talk sense! It's a good match: you both know it's a good match, and so—[to Rebecca]—have you seen the repairs to the old bridge?
[Rebecca moves farther away, leaving the photograph of Rafael on the wall.
[Lowering her voice.] They are both only children. And so, in any case, the money will stay in the family. You let Sachel consider it.
[Rosa takes the photograph of Rafael and hides it behind her.
[Aside.] I wonder how Rafael will consider it?
Sachel.
It costs nothing to consider it, but——
Esther.
We'll see you to-morrow.
Aaron.
At my house—before service. Come on, Rebecca; I have arranged about the wool. Good-night!
[Exit.
Esther.
Good-night!
Rebecca.
Oh, where's my picture of Rafael? [Rosa drops the photograph into the canal.] It's gone!
[She looks about for it.
Esther.
How could it have gone?
[Rebecca sees it in the canal.
Rebecca.
It has fallen into the canal! It's ruined! [Looks at Rosa.] I don't understand. I don't understand!
Oh, well; Rafael has some others. I'll see Rafael. Good-night.
Rebecca.
[To Rosa.] If the portrait dropped in where I left it, then it must have floated against the current.
Rosa.
[Fiercely, sotto.] It did go against the current.
[Exit Rebecca.
Sachel.
Not a cent under twelve thousand.
[Rosa, at the bridge, struggles with tears.
Esther.
We shall see!
[Exit.
Sachel.
So we shall. Why doesn't he come? His miserable selfishness. My God, if anything has happened to him! He doesn't come. He might have been set upon and robbed—beaten, killed, by some cursed ruffian beyond the Ghetto. My God—I'm harsh—too harsh with him. I shall be chastened for it. I was harsh to his mother; yes, I know—I know; I broke her heart perhaps, and Rafael, poor boy——[Stops, listens.] His step! Yes; even—steady—he's in no distress. He's not worrying about me. He'll come home to sleep and get more money—that's all. He's a vagabond—a rascally vagabond!
Enter Esther.
Enter Rafael by the bridge.
Rafael.
[Wearily.] Good evening. [No answer.] Good evening! [No answer.]
[He exchanges guarded looks with Rosa. Exit Rosa.
Esther.
[Contemptuously.] The gentleman says "Good evening!" This is his lodging-house, where he does us the honour to sleep!
Rafael.
I know I am rather late. I hope you were not anxious about me, father. Were you? Father! Oh—well!
Esther.
Why should he answer you? What manner of son are you?
Sachel.
Where have you been all day?
I—what does it matter? I know—I promised to do some business for you—but—there were other things—I forgot—I am sorry.
Esther.
Oh, he's sorry.
Sachel.
I asked you where you idled all this day, and you evaded me.
Rafael.
I have been everywhere—and the day vanished while I was thinking. Have you something to eat, aunt?
Sachel.
We have finished eating.
Esther.
At this time of night! H'm!
Rafael.
Very well. I will see what I can find.
Sachel.
Oh, my Maker, how heavily thou visitest upon me! To be thus mocked by a stranger within mine own house! If your poor dead mother knew how you treated me!
Rafael.
Father, the rotten board that marked my mother's grave is falling to pieces. And you can hardly find the spot for weeds—weeds!
Sachel.
Is that where you've been? Where else?
Rafael.
Far away—in my thoughts.
Sachel.
Another day—a whole precious day devoured by your drivelling nonsense! Are you a son? Have you an old blind father? Oh, my business, my splendid business, that I slaved and sweated out my marrow for, dwindling, dwindling with every ticking of the clock! And he wants me to buy a new headboard! I had better buy one for myself. I had better be dead than not, with such a son.
Esther.
Sachel! Sachel! You cry—for a son like that! He is not worth one tear.
God punishes me for all my sins. When he was a child I have stolen the bread from my mouth for him, weeks at a time; and now I may burrow alone in the dark for all he cares, chained to my door-post, chained to wait till some one comes to deal with me—to rob and swindle and mock me—because I am alone—and blind.
Rafael.
And the saddest is, it is not my doing, and I cannot help it.
Sachel.
Not his doing! Oh, my Maker! Can I keep him in irons and make him use his eyes for me?
Rafael.
Father, between us matters cannot be improved—now nor ever!
Esther.
Well, upon my word!
Sachel.
Why not? You have something you dare not tell. There is a woman in it. You had forty guilders when you went away this morning. Have you a cent of it left?
I gave it all to Mordecai to bury his son.
Sachel.
I do not believe it.
Rafael.
Father! For the little time that I remain here need we add more bitterness to what exists?
Sachel.
What do you say?
Rafael.
I am going away.
Sachel.
What—what—what do you say?
Rafael.
I am going away!
Sachel.
Oh, oh, that crowns all! He can look into my dead eyes and threaten this—without a quiver—without a qualm!
Rafael.
Ah, there was a time—there was a time, when I would have yielded any sacrifice for you—when I was a boy and you had just gone blind, and my heart was wrung with a pity for you that was a very pity in itself. If I had seen tears in your poor sightless eyes, then my peace would have been utterly destroyed; at the thought of having vexed you I should have beaten my brow. And now it's gone—gone—and it won't come back—it can't come back—because you robbed me of it.
Sachel.
I? I? What have I done? And why do you go away?
Rafael.
For reasons all of which I will not tell.
Sachel.
You dog! To leave your father—sick and blind, and on the road to poverty! God shall curse you for it!
Rafael.
No; God shall not! To live under this roof—to see, day in, day out—nothing—nothing—but, no—no! There are reasons, reasons enough, Heaven be my judge!
[Several musical instruments begin to tune up in the house where Daniel and Samson live.
Heaven will be your judge! There are reasons—reasons you are ashamed of—reasons you dare not tell!
Sachel.
It is true! You have fouled my name, you have been in the mire, you have committed some contemptible thing you are ashamed of! You are running away, you dare not tell why!
[Rafael throws over a chair; regains his composure.
Rafael.
Is it but three years ago that I was so ignorant, so raw, and so fond of you? I had known you with the fire of life in your eyes, and now it had gone; the light of your soul was as hidden in a dungeon, because you were blind. Ah, how I suffered! I shut my eyes to imagine it—darkness, black nothing; God's beautiful sky gone for ever, as if you were in your coffin under ground! Awful! Awful! And this, this was my father—my father, whom I loved and honoured, of all the world!
Sachel.
Who asked your sympathy? Hold your tongue!
I honoured you because you asked the sympathy of no man. I honoured you. Shall I ever forget that Friday, when I stood alone in the gloom of this warehouse, watching you, sorrowing over your blindness, with tears in my eyes! You stood by the scales. They were weighing out your merchandise; the man who had bought it stooped and shifted the weights; and your creature Jacob read the figures out and you wrote them down in great coarse scrawls—your grey head bare, your face turned up to heaven. How I loved you—how I pitied you! You bore yourself with such calm—such fortitude—as if, when God had touched your eyes, He had whispered into your ears some portion of the everlasting truth. No one saw me—I was back in the shadow. And I started forward; I wanted to say, "Father—go in; father, never labour again! Sit in your chair—rest always—while I do your bidding—while I do everything!" But I did not say it. No! I stopped; I slunk back into the deepest shadow like a criminal. I had uttered a cry, but you and Jacob did not hear me. On the platform of the scales, when your client stooped to balance them, I had seen a foot go out—go out while your white face was turned in holy calm to heaven—go out and press down—so that the scales read false—so that the man who bought our goods was tricked and robbed—robbed of the money we had not earned from him. And again I saw it, and again, and again, father! And the man whose foot went out and did this crime, the man who was stealing and stealing, time after time, stealing his money, stealing my respect, my honour, my youth, before my eyes—was it Jacob? No, it was you—you, my father—my father, whom I loved and pitied, and they had trusted—because you were blind!
Esther.
Shame! That's a lie! Shame!
Rafael.
[Turning to his father.] Is it a lie?
Sachel.
[Hoarsely.] Let him go on. Let him go on.
Rafael.
And that afternoon I went with my father to the synagogue; I did not pray, I could not speak. I only gazed at my father's face, waiting to see it soften into some shade of doubt, of repentance, of remorse. And the dead eyes faced up to the rafters where the sun shone through—they faced up there with the same impassive stare—the same holy calm, as when he stood with his foot on the scales. Ah, when we walked home, how cold and pitiless the sky looked down at me that winter day! We sat at our Sabbath table. He complained that I was silent. He said prayers, he dipped the bread in the salt. The lamplight shone on him, and I stared into his face, and I saw nothing—nothing I had always thought I saw—and my heart was ice; and he rose and stumbled over a stool and fell, and I picked him up—and my heart was still ice. He was no longer blind to me—he was nothing—nothing but a—ah no, no,—what's the use—what's the use?
Sachel.
[Hoarsely.] Have I been different from the others? Aaron, Levy, Isaac, would they not have done the same? Is there any one who would not take advantage of my eyes? No; business is business.
Rafael.
Business,—Aaron, Levy, Isaac! God, how I have despised them all my life!
Esther.
Oh, he would give overweight!
I will quarrel no more with you. When I am gone——
Sachel.
You are not going—you shall not go! [Trembling.] I have nothing in the world but you. Didn't I do it all for you? When I am dead the money will be yours, and the blame sewed up in my shroud with me. Can't you be content?
Rafael.
[After looking at him for a moment, hopelessly.] It is getting late. I am tired. Let us go to bed, and to-morrow let us part friends.
Esther.
You eat something. Then you'll feel differently. H'm! He go away! I shall call up Rosa!
Rafael.
Thanks, no. I could not eat now. Has she not done enough this sweltering day?
Esther.
Then I'm going to bed. No wonder, to be so irregular in your ways. You were up last night. Couldn't you sleep?
Rafael.
I did not sleep until nearly morning.
[Exit Esther. Sachel goes to try the shutters.
Well, good-night, father. You won't answer? Well, good-night! [Music begins in the house at the back.] [Aside.] They are playing my music. Give me time—I will show you what is in my soul!
Sachel.
[Aside.] The scales—that is not the only reason!
Enter Rosa, who does not see Sachel. She starts to go to Rafael. Sachel hears her.
Rosa, why are you not in bed? [Rosa stops motionless, mute, frightened.] Is that Rosa?
[He is suspicious.
[They do not answer. Exit Sachel into the house, evidently with a purpose.