Enigma: A Domestic Conversation
by
ENIGMA
A DOMESTIC CONVERSATION
To THEODORE DREISER
“Enigma” was first presented at the Liberal Club, New York City, in 1915.
A man and woman are sitting at a table, talking in bitter tones.
SHE.
So that is what you think.
HE.
Yes. For us to live together any longer would be an obscene joke. Let’s end it while we still have some sanity and decency left.
SHE.
Is that the best you can do in the way of sanity and decency–to talk like that?
HE.
You’d like to cover it up with pretty words, wouldn’t you? Well, we’ve had enough of that. I feel as though my face were covered with spider webs. I want to brush them off and get clean again.
SHE.
It’s not my fault you’ve got weak nerves.
Why don’t you try to behave like a gentleman,
instead of a hysterical minor poet?
HE.
A gentleman, Helen, would have strangled you years ago. It takes a man with crazy notions of freedom and generosity to be the fool that I’ve been.
SHE.
I suppose you blame me for your ideas!
HE.
I’m past blaming anybody, even myself. Helen, don’t you realize
that this has got to stop? We are cutting each other to pieces with knives.
SHE.
You want me to go. . . .
HE.
Or I’ll go–it makes no difference.
Only we’ve got to separate, definitely and for ever.
SHE.
You really think there is no possibility–of our finding some way?
… We might be able–to find some way.
HE.
We found some way, Helen–twice before. And this is what it comes to
. . . . There are limits to my capacity for self-delusion. This is the end.
SHE.
Yes. Only–
HE.
Only what?
SHE.
It–it seems . . . such a pity. . . .
HE.
Pity! The pity is this–that we should sit here
and haggle about our hatred. That’s all there’s left between us.
SHE.
( standing up )
I won’t haggle, Paul. If you think we should part, we shall this very night. But I don’t want to part this way, Paul. I know I’ve hurt you. I want to be forgiven before I go.
HE.
( standing up to face her )
Can’t we finish without another sentimental lie?
I’m in no mood to act out a pretty scene with you.
SHE.
That was unjust, Paul. You know I don’t mean that.
What I want is to make you understand, so you won’t hate me.
HE.
More explanations. I thought we had both got tired of them. I used to think it possible to heal a wound by words. But we ought to know better. They’re like acid in it.
SHE.
Please don’t, Paul–This is the last time we shall
ever hurt each other. Won’t you listen to me?
HE.
Go on.
He sits down wearily.
SHE.
I know you hate me. You have a right to. Not just because I was faithless–but because I was cruel. I don’t want to excuse myself–but I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t realize I was hurting you.
HE.
We’ve gone over that a thousand times.