JULIAN (_walking back and forth_)
What"s the use, Irene? Why do you begin to talk of all those forgotten things again...?
IRENE
Forgotten?
JULIAN
... Things gone by.
IRENE
Yes, they are bygone, of course. But out there in the country you have plenty of time. All sorts of things keep pa.s.sing through your head. And especially when you see other people"s children--Lora has two boys, you know--then you get all sorts of notions. It almost amounted to a vision not long ago.
JULIAN
What?
IRENE
It was toward evening, and I had walked across the fields. I do it quite often, all by myself. Far and wide there was n.o.body to be seen.
And the village down below was quite deserted, too. And I walked on and on, always in direction of the woods. And suddenly I was no longer alone. You were with me. And between us was the child. We were holding it by the hands--our little child. (_Angrily, to keep herself from crying_) It"s too silly for anything! I know, of course, that our child would be a gawky youngster of twenty-three by now--that it might have turned into a scamp or a good-for-nothing girl. Or that it might be dead already. Or that it had drifted out into the wide world, so that we had nothing left of it--oh, yes, yes.... But we should have had it once, for all that--once there would have been a little child that seemed rather fond of us. And.... (_She is unable to go on; silence follows_)
JULIAN (_softly_)
You shouldn"t talk yourself into such a state, Irene.
IRENE
I am not talking myself into anything.
JULIAN
Don"t brood. Accept things as they are. There have been other things in your life--better things, perhaps. Your life has been much richer than that of a mere mother could ever have been.... You have been an artist.
IRENE (_as if to herself_)
I don"t care that much for it.
JULIAN
A great, famous one--that means something after all. And your life has brought you many other exquisite experiences--since the one with me. I am sure of it.
IRENE
What have I got left of it? What does it amount to? A woman who has no child has never been a woman. But a woman who once might have had one--who should have had one, and who--(_with a glance at him_)--has never become a mother, she is nothing but--oh! But that"s what a man cannot understand! It is what not one of them can understand! In this respect the very best one of the lot will always remain something of a cad. Is there one of you who knows how many of his own offspring have been set adrift in the world? I know at least that there are none of mine. Can you say as much?
JULIAN
And if I did know....
IRENE
How? Have you got one really?--Oh, speak, please! You can tell _me,_ Julian, can"t you? Where is it? How old is it? A boy? Or a girl?
JULIAN
Don"t question me.... Even if I had a child, it wouldn"t belong to you anyhow.
IRENE
He has a child! He has a child! (_Pause_) Why do you permit it to be drifting around in the world then?
JULIAN
You yourself have given the explanation: in this respect the very best of us remains always something of a cad. And I am not the best one at that.
IRENE
Why don"t you go and get it?
JULIAN
How could it be any of my concern? How could I dare to make it my concern? Oh, that"s enough.... (_Pause_) Do you want another cup of tea?
IRENE
No, thanks. No more now. (_Pause; it is growing darker_) He has a child, and I have never known it! (_Protracted silence_)
VALET (_enters_)
JULIAN
What is it?
VALET
Lieutenant Wegrat asks if you are at home, sir?
JULIAN
Certainly. Ask him in.
VALET (_goes out after having turned on the light_)
IRENE