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Legend: A Romance
by
He restores the letter to his pocket.
SHE.
There is something in it that makes me shiver…. Let us look.
She takes the paper from the box and
is about to open it when he stops her.
HE.
No. Not now. I want to talk to you.
SHE
( lapsing into a hostile coldness )
Yes.
HE.
You know what I have to say.
I have said it so often. I shall say it once more.
SHE.
( appealingly )
Luciano!
HE.
No, let me speak. You are not happy.
You do not love your husband.
And you are too young and beautiful to live without love.
SHE.
Please!
HE.
I love you. And you love me.
Why do you not surrender yourself to love?
SHE.
Why do you say such things? They hurt me.
HE.
They are reality. Does reality hurt you? Are you living in a shadow-world, that you should flinch from the hard touch of truth? I say it again. I love you.
SHE.
Before you started to talk like that, we were so happy together.
HE.
Before I spoke out the truth of my own heart and yours. You didn’t want it spoken out. You didn’t want to be told you were in love. It was a thing too harsh and sweet. It frightened you to think of. You wanted us to sit for ever, like two lovers painted on a fan, fixed in an everlasting and innocuous bliss.
SHE.
Well, you have succeeded in spoiling that.
You have made me unhappy, if that gives you any pleasure.
HE.
It was not I who have spoiled your shadow-world. It is love, coming like the dawn on wings of flame, and shattering the shadows with spears of gold. It is love that has made you unhappy. You tremble at its coming, and try to flee. But the day of love has come for you.
SHE.
Ah, if it had only come before–before….
HE.
Before you married that perverse old man. If it had come while you were still a maiden, free, with a right to give yourself up to it! Ah, you would have given yourself gloriously! It is beautiful–but it is a dream, and the time calls for a deed. We love each other. We can take our happiness now. Will you do it? Will you come away with me?
SHE.
No.
HE.
Then I if you cannot take your happiness, give me mine. If you cannot be a woman, be an angel, and lean down from your dream heaven to slake my earthly thirst.
SHE.
No.
HE.
No angel? Then a goddess! You want to be worshipped. You want to be adored. I will worship you, but not from afar, I will adore you in my own fashion. I will praise you without words, and you shall be the answer to my prayer. Will you?
SHE.
No.
HE.
“No.” “No.” “No.” How did your lips learn to say that word so easily? They are not made to say such a word. They are too young, too red, to say “No” to Life. When you say that word, the world grows black. The stars go out, the leaves wither, the heart stops beating. It is a word that kills. It is the word of Death. Dare you say it again? Answer me, do we love each other? . . . Silence.