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Plays: The Father; Countess Julie; The Outlaw; The Stronger

A >> August Strindberg >> Plays: The Father; Countess Julie; The Outlaw; The Stronger




[Mlle. Y. appears as if about to speak.]

MME. X. Hush, you needn't speak--I understand it all! It was
because--and because--and because! Yes, yes! Now all the accounts
balance. That's it. Fie, I won't sit at the same table with you.
[Moves her things to another table.] That's the reason I had to
embroider tulips--which I hate--on his slippers, because you are
fond of tulips; that's why [Throws slippers on the floor] we go to
Lake Mälarn in the summer, because you don't like salt water;
that's why my boy is named Eskil--because it's your father's name;
that's why I wear your colors, read your authors, eat your favorite
dishes, drink your drinks--chocolate, for instance; that's why--oh--
my God--it's terrible, when I think about it; it's terrible.
Everything, everything came from you to me, even your passions.
Your soul crept into mine, like a worm into an apple, ate and ate,
bored and bored, until nothing was left but the rind and a little
black dust within. I wanted to get away from you, but I couldn't;
you lay like a snake and charmed me with your black eyes; I felt
that when I lifted my wings they only dragged me down; I lay in the
water with bound feet, and the stronger I strove to keep up the
deeper I worked myself down, down, until I sank to the bottom,
where you lay like a giant crab to clutch me in your claws--and
there I am lying now.

I hate you, hate you, hate you! And you only sit there silent--
silent and indifferent; indifferent whether it's new moon or waning
moon, Christmas or New Year's, whether others are happy or unhappy;
without power to hate or to love; as quiet as a stork by a rat
hole--you couldn't scent your prey and capture it, but you could
lie in wait for it! You sit here in your corner of the cafê--did
you know it's called "The Rat Trap" for you?--and read the papers
to see if misfortune hasn't befallen some one, to see if some one
hasn't been given notice at the theatre, perhaps; you sit here and
calculate about your next victim and reckon on your chances of
recompense like a pilot in a shipwreck. Poor Amelie, I pity you,
nevertheless, because I know you are unhappy, unhappy like one who
has been wounded, and angry because you are wounded. I can't be
angry with you, no matter how much I want to be--because you come
out the weaker one. Yes, all that with Bob doesn't trouble me. What
is that to me, after all? And what difference does it make whether
I learned to drink chocolate from you or some one else.
[Sips a spoonful from her cup.]

Besides, chocolate is very healthful. And if you taught me how to
dress--tant mieux!--that has only made me more attractive to my
husband; so you lost and I won there. Well, judging by certain
signs, I believe you have already lost him; and you certainly
intended that I should leave him--do as you did with your fiancê
and regret as you now regret; but, you see, I don't do that--we
mustn't be too exacting. And why should I take only what no one
else wants?

Perhaps, take it all in all, I am at this moment the stronger one.
You received nothing from me, but you gave me much. And now I seem
like a thief since you have awakened and find I possess what is
your loss. How could it be otherwise when everything is worthless
and sterile in your hands? You can never keep a man's love with
your tulips and your passions--but I can keep it. You can't learn
how to live from your authors, as I have learned. You have no
little Eskil to cherish, even if your father's name was Eskil. And
why are you always silent, silent, silent? I thought that was
strength, but perhaps it is because you have nothing to say!
Because you never think about anything! [Rises and picks up
slippers.]

Now I'm going home--and take the tulips with me--_your_ tulips! You
are unable to learn from another; you can't bend--therefore, you
broke like a dry stalk. But I won't break! Thank you, Amelie, for
all your good lessons. Thanks for teaching my husband how to love.
Now I'm going home to love him. [Goes.]

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