Chapter III: Act II

_It is the same parlor, where the girls in summer frocks were making nosegays, but since that morning nine months of war have passed. The curtains are drawn across the arched doorway to the writing room. The windows are half coated with frost. The window boxes are gone. The gold-fish and their stand are near the hearth, where a meager coal fire burns. On the bookcase to the right of the door to the writing room is a large lighted lamp. On the mantel-shelf a pair of lighted candles. Upon the table, on a large tray, is a coffee machine, with its accessories, sugar basin, cups, and spoons._

_The season is February, bitterly cold. The time is early evening._

_Beside the hearth, wrapped in a shawl, Lydia sits knitting. With the passing of the months she has aged and thinned. The Professor cowers on the sofa, with a gray shawl over his stooping shoulders. In the rear window stands Gertrude, looking down into the street. She wears over her house dress a knitted jacket. All three have the air of people worn out with anxiety and grief and apathetic with despair. Only Gertrude blazes with rebellion. From the street sounds monotonously the roll of the wheels of heavy artillery. After a moment the Professor speaks._

PROFESSOR. Are they still marching by?

GERTRUDE. Don’t you hear the wheels of the artillery?

PROFESSOR. The foreigners, in our city!

LYDIA. How can you bear to watch them?

GERTRUDE. I want to see the guns that finished us. Do you remember how we stood at the window, eight months ago? How we cheered and threw flowers?

LYDIA. It was the day that Basil went to the front.

GERTRUDE. The war was to end in six weeks. We believed it. Fools!

LYDIA. I’ve dropped another stitch.

GERTRUDE [_going to her, with compunction_]. How can you knit, and your hands so cold?

LYDIA. It takes up my mind.

GERTRUDE. I’ll fix the fire.

[_She kneels on the hearth, and lays on the coal, a piece at a time, lifting the pieces with a bit of newspaper, in order to do it without noise._]

PROFESSOR. Yes, the room is shockingly cold. Dear, dear! [_Sits by the hearth._]

LYDIA. Carefully, Gertrude. Don’t waste the coal!

GERTRUDE. What’s the sense of saving coal to warm those foreign brutes? [_Rises._] Let’s be comfortable for an hour. We may not live any longer. [_Goes to the window, front._]

PROFESSOR. Non-combatants in an undefended town! The invaders are bound by every usage of civilized warfare—

GERTRUDE. What’s civilized warfare got to do with it? Still marching! No end to them. We used to laugh at them for playing soldier. Playing soldier! It was we that played. They made a business of it.

LYDIA. But God is on our side. We must triumph in the end.

GERTRUDE. Phil said: Either arm, or stop talking war. We wouldn’t arm, but we liked to talk. And there are the foreigners marching through our streets. They’ll be quartered under our roof. They’ll be—

LYDIA. Hush! Listen!

GERTRUDE. What is it?

LYDIA. Go to the door. I heard the bell ring.

GERTRUDE. Why, it can’t be, Mother. They wouldn’t ring. And no one else would come.

[_The door bell rings._]

LYDIA. I said so!

[_Katherine comes from the writing room, drawing the curtains close behind her. She wears a knitted coat over her house dress._]

KATHERINE. Some one is ringing. Didn’t you hear? The noise will wake Roland. [_Comes into parlor._] They must come in.

GERTRUDE. I’ll go down.

KATHERINE. No. You’d better let me.

[_Katherine goes out at the forward door. The bell rings again._]

PROFESSOR [_querulously_]. Where has she gone?

LYDIA. Listen!

PROFESSOR. There is a draught from that door.

GERTRUDE. Please be quiet, Uncle. [_Goes to the door._] There is some one crying. I can hear them on the stairs.

MARGARET [_outside, sobbing_]. I’m so glad to find somebody. I’m so glad.

GERTRUDE. Why, it’s Margaret.

[_Katherine comes in again, supporting Margaret, very pale, in a plain hat and loose dark cloak. Gertrude closes the door after they have entered._]

MARGARET. Oh, let me stay here! Let me stay!

KATHERINE. What else should you do? Only don’t cry, silly! You’ll wake up Roland. Let us help you out of your things. [_Takes off her cloak._] There’s a little coffee left, Gertrude. Start the machine!

[_Gertrude, at back of table, starts the coffee machine. Katherine sits by Margaret on the sofa. It is now seen that Margaret wears on her left arm a Red Cross band and that her hand rests, bandaged, in a sling._]

LYDIA. We thought you were still at St. Mary’s.

KATHERINE. When did you leave the hospital?

MARGARET. There isn’t any hospital any more. They dropped bombs into St. Mary’s night before last. I got my arm burned, helping to carry out our wounded men. We couldn’t get them all. [_Sobs._] We couldn’t get them all.

KATHERINE. Don’t, dear! You mustn’t. Don’t!

MARGARET. I wasn’t any use, with only one arm. So I started. It was the last train into town. Last night that was. But now—there’s no way to get out.

KATHERINE. Yes. It’s too late now.

MARGARET. But why have you stayed on? I couldn’t believe my eyes, when I looked up and saw Gertrude at the window.

KATHERINE. Roland has been sick.

LYDIA. With typhoid, yes. We couldn’t move him.

KATHERINE. But you—you ought to have gone, Mother.

LYDIA. Where? The enemy hold the north. They’re probably stabling their horses in our parlor now. Cutting down Rob’s young trees to build their fires.

KATHERINE. Mother, you’re shivering. [_Rises._] I’ll bring more coal.

GERTRUDE. Let me, Kate!

KATHERINE. No, you did it last time.

[_Katherine goes out with the coal scuttle at the rear door left._]

MARGARET. The servants have all left you?

LYDIA. Yes. Martha was the last.

MARGARET. Why, I never thought that Martha—

GERTRUDE. She had to go to help her sister. There was a baby coming. She’s been gone a month.

MARGARET. I hope it wasn’t to the north she went.

GERTRUDE. Yes. It was.

MARGARET. And have you any word of—Robert?

GERTRUDE. He is on the battle-line in the west. They have made him a major. He has the medal of honor.

MARGARET. And—and—

GERTRUDE. Basil? No. No word in three months. Not since the river fight.

LYDIA [_in a strained voice_]. Once, in his first campaign, I was seven months without a word from your father. Seven whole months!

MARGARET. Missing? Not that! Anything but that!

[_Gertrude sits beside her, comforting._]

LYDIA. Missing? Why, it means no more than that a man is held a prisoner, or maybe wounded in some field hospital. I’ve lived through two wars. I know what I’m talking about.

[_Katherine comes in again with the coal._]

KATHERINE. We must try to make this coal last till midnight. [_Lays on a few pieces, carefully and quietly._]

GERTRUDE [_going to the machine_]. It’s lucky we have the big lamp to help out.

KATHERINE. Yes. There’s still a barrel of oil below.

MARGARET [_rising_]. Shall I draw the curtains?

GERTRUDE. No, no! The orders are that windows shall be lighted and unscreened.

KATHERINE [_rising_]. Isn’t the coffee ready?

GERTRUDE [_filling cup_]. I’m afraid it’s barely lukewarm.

MARGARET. No matter!

GERTRUDE. Here’s the sugar. [_Gives cup to Katherine._]

KATHERINE [_carrying the cup to Margaret, at the right_]. I’m sorry there’s no condensed milk to spare. But we have to keep it all for Roland.

GERTRUDE. They’ll take it when they come. You’ll see they will, the brutes!

KATHERINE. What’s the good of it, Gertrude? They’re here in the town. Any minute they’ll be in this house.

MARGARET. Oh! [_Lets the cup fall._] They’re here—this minute! Look! Look!

KATHERINE. Be quiet! What is it?

MARGARET [_pointing_]. The door!

[_Slowly the rear door at left is pushed open and Martha comes in. Her dark dress and coarse shoes are muddied and a little disordered. Her hair is a little displaced. Her hat is broken. She is very quiet, only her eyes are a little too bright._]

GERTRUDE. Why, Martha!

KATHERINE. Blessed woman! Where did you come from?

MARTHA. I came in by the back way, as usual, ma’am. Shan’t I cook you some dinner? I have come back to stay, if you please.

KATHERINE. But how did you ever get here? [_Sits at left of table._] With the enemy filling the roads—

MARTHA. I came on a train. Then I walked. I have come back. There is no meat in the larder, but I can make a soup of tinned things.

LYDIA. I can’t understand. Where did you leave your sister?

MARTHA [_pleasantly_]. Oh, I haven’t any sister. Look here! [_From her bosom takes a child’s little knitted glove._] That’s Patty’s glove, my little niece with the pretty curls. I made it myself for her. We heard in the morning that the foreigners were coming into the town. A bomb fell right in our street and tore an old man’s arm off. Sister took the baby. It was two weeks old. I took Patty. She had her doll in her arms. We got onto a tram. We was trying to get the station. They said there still were trains—

KATHERINE. Don’t try to tell us, Martha! Don’t!

MARTHA. Why not? I tell it over to myself all day and all night. There was a bomb struck a house. Patty cried. I can feel her little arms round my neck. There was another bomb, and the tram opened up, just like a paper box when you hit it. You know how ’tis at the butcher’s shop, all sort of red and shapeless and dripping? Well, it was like that where my sister had been, with the baby. I just took Patty and I ran. I had her tight by the hand, and I could see the station at the end of the street. Then I heard ’em screaming that the soldiers were coming, and horses galloping, and I fell, and the crowd went over me. When I got up, I had Patty’s glove in my hand. But I couldn’t find her. I kept asking folks if they’d seen a little girl, with curls and a doll in her arms. I kept asking till the houses began to burn. Then I came away. That’s all that’s left of my sister and Patty and the little baby. Funny to think of, isn’t it? [_Puts the glove back in her bosom._] Now I’ll get dinner.

KATHERINE [_going to her_]. Listen, Martha! You must go to your room—your old room. I’ll bring something that you must take. You must sleep.

[_The door bell rings furiously._]

MARGARET [_screaming_]. Oh! Oh!

GERTRUDE. They’ve come!

[_Heavy knocking on the door below._]

KATHERINE. Yes. At last. They mustn’t make that noise. [_Starts to the door._]

MARTHA. You can’t demean yourself, ma’am. I’ll go to the door.

[_Martha goes out at the forward door left. An instant of silence and strained listening. Then renewed beating on the door._]

GERTRUDE. Oh! And we’re helpless! Helpless!

MARGARET [_half screaming_]. I’m afraid—afraid!

KATHERINE. Pull yourself together! Remember what race you belong to. Stop it now!

PROFESSOR. Non-combatants—our rights are clear and unviolable. The law of nations—

THE CORPORAL [_outside_]. Make now an end of that! I go where I shall damn please.

[_Enter at the forward door left, shoving Martha before him, the foreign Corporal. A man of forty odd, in shabby cavalry uniform, overcoat and gauntlets, with a carbine slung across his back. No villain, just a coarse, common man, capable of rough geniality, even of rough kindliness. Just now, cold, tired, and hungry, he shows few signs of either quality._]

CORPORAL. Trot in and announce me, old girl!

[_Katherine steps between him and Martha, who retreats to the right._]

KATHERINE. You are billeted here, I suppose?

CORPORAL [_handing her a paper_]. You can bet we are. The Lieutenant, me, the Corporal, and three of our men. [_Crosses to Martha._] Hurry up, old girl! We want grub and plenty of it, too. Oh, you’ll get your taste, do not be afraid. We’re not risking a dose o’ rat poison in our porridge. [_Pulling off his gauntlets._] May as well bring us up also a bottle or two of wine. The old chap has some down in the cellar.

PROFESSOR [_rising_]. What!

CORPORAL. Oh, you cannot fool me! I was foreman in a shop on the next street, until the war broke out.

KATHERINE. Martha, cook enough for five men. As quickly as possible.

MARTHA. Yes, ma’am.

[_Martha goes out at the rear door, left._]

CORPORAL. Is this your warmest room?

KATHERINE. Yes.

CORPORAL. Well, it is not quite so cold as out o’ doors. If it’s the best you got, why, you can vacate. Clear out, I mean. You to the cock-loft. The Lieutenant must have this room.

PROFESSOR. My good man—

KATHERINE. Uncle!

PROFESSOR. Let me point out to you that these women—

CORPORAL. Shut up, you old idiot! I had enough of your gab last year, drifting into your popular lectures down the street here. Survival of the fittest, that’s what you were preaching. And the fit survive, because they get the fire and the grub. That is logic, eh?

LYDIA [_rising_]. Charles! Come!

[_Lydia and the Professor go out at the rear door left. Margaret follows after them, shrinking, with her eyes on the Corporal._]

CORPORAL. Look here, you don’t need to make like that, my girl. I am no bold, bad ravisher. None of us are. We want the grub, and to get warmed up. God! We’ve seen women enough a’ready. [_Gertrude puts her arm about Margaret and leads her to the door. The Corporal spies the coffee machine and pounces upon it._] Hey! What’s this? Coffee? Ah, the blamed stuff is cold. [_To Katherine._] Hold on, you!

[_Margaret hurries out rear door left. Katherine pauses on stair to writing room. Gertrude runs to her._]

GERTRUDE. Katherine!

KATHERINE. Go stay with Roland. He might be frightened. Go to him. I’m all right. [_Gertrude goes into writing room. Katherine comes to the table._] Yes, the coffee is cold. Wait and I’ll warm it up.

CORPORAL. Hurry up, then. Want it hot and plenty when the Lieutenant comes. Got to treat him nicely. [_Saunters leisurely toward the hearth._] Kid from the War School. A fine chap, oh yes! But he’s so newly hatched lieutenant, the shell is still sticking to him. In Heaven’s name! Do you call that then a fire? [_Catches up coal scuttle._]

KATHERINE. Stop!

CORPORAL. Huh?

KATHERINE. Don’t make a noise! [_Goes to him._] I’ve got a sick child in that room. Put the scuttle down. I’ll lay on the coal myself.

CORPORAL. Damn foolishness! I can’t wait all day. Let go there!

[_Katherine clings to the scuttle, facing him, defiant. The forward door at left is flung open noisily and the Lieutenant comes in, followed by a Trooper. The Lieutenant is about twenty, a slender young fellow, unshaven, sunken-eyed, haggard with exhaustion. He staggers as he enters._]

CORPORAL [_going to him_]. Here! Let me, sir!

LIEUTENANT. You do not need to hold my arm. [_Moves unsteadily toward the sofa._] It is twenty years about since I was last a baby.

CORPORAL. You go down the stairs and make some fires burn. [_Trooper salutes and goes out rear door left. Katherine kneels and replenishes her fire. The Lieutenant wavers where he has halted. The Corporal catches him._] Will you please sit down, sir? [_Puts him on the sofa._] Shall I pull off your boots?

LIEUTENANT. Damn it, no! You touch me, and I think I break to pieces like an icicle. This damned country!

CORPORAL [_to Katherine_]. Have you brandy?

KATHERINE. I’ve no more left. But I’ll have the coffee ready in a minute.

LIEUTENANT. To hell with your brandy! It is always brandy that you say. I do not want brandy. I want only to be warm. And a little while to sleep.

CORPORAL. You stretch out here, sir. I’ll bring some blankets.

LIEUTENANT. Curse your soul! How can I sleep? There are the horses. Stable inspection. [_Painfully he tries to draw the gauntlets from his half frozen hands._]

CORPORAL. Just stay here quiet, sir, and leave things to me. Let me pull off those gauntlets.

LIEUTENANT. Look here! I am not a baby. Clear out, will you?

CORPORAL [_saluting_]. Yes, sir.

[_The Corporal goes out at the forward door left._]

LIEUTENANT. He is a great fool. Because his mother nursed me he thinks— Well, where is that coffee?

KATHERINE [_going to the table_]. I think it’s ready. [_As she moves the cups she makes a slight noise._]

LIEUTENANT [_turning quickly_]. Place that machine at the other end of the table!

KATHERINE [_moving the tray_]. Certainly. Would you mind telling me why?

LIEUTENANT. Because ladies of your country have sometimes, in their playfulness, spilt blazing alcohol upon men of ours with their backs turned, and given them by mistake hydrochloride solution instead of water.

KATHERINE. Do you know men to whom such things have happened?

LIEUTENANT. I know men who know men to whom it has happened. And I have read in our newspapers. [_Again he wrestles with his gauntlets, but desists with a gasp of pain._] Ah! [_Katherine fills a cup with coffee._] Oh, I am not scared, you know. Give me that coffee!

KATHERINE. It’s pretty hot. You can’t drink it yet.

LIEUTENANT. This rotten country. [_His head droops._]

[_Katherine looks at him, and sees no more than a tired, half-frozen, miserable boy. Obviously, if he were a very little younger, he would cry outright. She surrenders to the eternal mother in her._]

KATHERINE. I can cool your coffee with some condensed milk. [_Going to the bookcase, she takes a can from behind the books._]

LIEUTENANT [_feebly lifting his head_]. That’s a funny place to keep milk. [_Begins again to work off his gauntlets._]

KATHERINE. I have kept it for my boy that is sick. Kept it hidden. [_Puts milk into the coffee._] Sugar?

LIEUTENANT. Two lumps. [_Convention asserts itself._] Please!

KATHERINE [_coming to him_]. Can you hold the cup?

LIEUTENANT. My fingers—they are like sticks of wood.

KATHERINE. I’ll hold it for you. [_Sets the cup to his lips._] Not too hot?

LIEUTENANT. No. It’s fine. Go slow! [_He drinks, then pauses, looking up at her._] Tell me! You are maybe after all on our side? Some of the folks are, secretly.

KATHERINE. Oh, no! My husband is at the front. Have some more?

LIEUTENANT. Yes. [_Drinks, then pauses._] I had forgot, you know. My cap on in the house. [_He makes a futile effort to remove it with his numbed hand._]

KATHERINE. Shall I take it off?

LIEUTENANT. Yes. Please!

[_Katherine removes his cap, and lays it on the table, then pours another cup of coffee._]

KATHERINE. Shall we get you something to eat?

LIEUTENANT. I got my throat sore clear into my ears. I can’t swallow food at all. You know, you do not want to think they all go to pieces in our army like me. It is not a month I have been at the front. Pretty soon I get used to it.

KATHERINE. Hold the cup in your hands. It will thaw out your fingers. Can you stand it?

LIEUTENANT. Yes. Won’t you—won’t you sit down?

KATHERINE. Thank you. [_Takes a chair, sits at a little distance._]

LIEUTENANT [_drinking coffee throughout_]. We aren’t, you know, really brutes. But you treat us like we are, and think we are, then we are. Perhaps if we’d met before the war—and that isn’t yet a year ago—we might have been nice and polite to each other, and maybe friends. Funny, isn’t it?

KATHERINE. So funny that I think the angels cry over the joke of it.

LIEUTENANT. I came pretty near coming to your country last spring on vacation. Might have come to this very town. I had a cousin was staying here—

[_First Trooper comes in again, with a bucket of coal._]

LIEUTENANT. Well, what is it, then?

FIRST TROOPER. Shan’t I fix the fire, sir? [_Starts to throw on coal._]

KATHERINE. Please don’t make a noise!

LIEUTENANT. You hear the lady, blockhead! Lay on the coals, one piece at a time, like she wants.

FIRST TROOPER. Yes, sir. [_Kneels and replenishes the fire._]

LIEUTENANT. You are here alone in the house?

KATHERINE. There are four other women and an old man.

LIEUTENANT. Where are they, then?

KATHERINE. Upstairs.

LIEUTENANT. Are there fires upstairs?

KATHERINE. No.

LIEUTENANT. You, there! You will go upstairs and give to the ladies my compliments. Say they are welcome to use here the room that is warm. Be civil!

[_First Trooper salutes and goes out at the rear door left._]

KATHERINE [_rising_]. Thank you!

LIEUTENANT [_rising_]. We aren’t, you see, brutes, any more than your own men are, maybe. See here! I think now I can hold a pen. I will write a paper that you stick on your door. It will help you maybe.

KATHERINE. You’re good.

LIEUTENANT. You are the first woman, of the sort I have known at my mother’s, to speak decent to me in four weeks. Oh, I get used to it. We are doing what is right. What our country orders, it is always right. But a chap doesn’t like the kids to cry when they see his uniform. There’s pen and ink there?

KATHERINE [_going to the secretary_]. Oh yes. And here’s paper. [_Lights candles on the secretary._] Are you sure you can manage?

LIEUTENANT [_sitting at the secretary_]. Yes. I don’t need to write much. And I am pretty near thawed out. Only now I am sleepy. [_Writes._]

GERTRUDE [_entering from the writing room_]. Katherine!

KATHERINE. Come in! [_Goes to her._] It’s all right. He’s a decent little chap. It’s all right.

LIEUTENANT. Have you please a blotter?

KATHERINE [_re-arranging the coffee tray_]. Three or four of them on the desk.

LIEUTENANT. Yes, I find them. Hello! [_Takes up a framed photograph._] What is this picture?

KATHERINE. An old friend of ours. He was your fellow-countryman.

LIEUTENANT [_rising_]. He is also my cousin that I told you of.

GERTRUDE. You are Phil’s cousin? [_Runs to him._] Where is he? What’s become of him? Is he alive? Oh, for pity’s sake, tell me, tell me!

LIEUTENANT. You are maybe the girl he wrote of once?

GERTRUDE. Yes, yes. I’m that girl—his girl. I know that now. Only I was such a fool. Where is he? Oh, he isn’t—dead?

LIEUTENANT. No. That is—I heard last from him three months ago. He was serving with the aviation corps.

KATHERINE. You mean he is fighting?

LIEUTENANT. To be sure, yes. What else does a man do, when his country needs him?

GERTRUDE. That’s just what I told him, here in this room. I remember. Yes.

LIEUTENANT. He volunteered, and he is now officer.

KATHERINE. And what about his work? The cure for cancer?

LIEUTENANT. Oh, there isn’t now time for things like that. He must fight.

GERTRUDE. Yes. Don’t you understand? Of course he must fight. And it doesn’t matter—who he fights. He’s mine. I’m his. And I’m waiting for him, just as he begged me to wait. Oh, he must know it. Where is he? Where can I write to him?

LIEUTENANT. I cannot tell you. We do not ever tell what will make people know where our different troops are stationed. But I can send a letter maybe for you.

GERTRUDE. Oh, please! Please! I must tell him. You promise you’ll send it? You promise?

LIEUTENANT. As sure as I live.

[_Lydia, Margaret, and the Professor come in at the rear door left._]

GERTRUDE. You darling!

[_For the last hour she has been on the edge of hysterics. Now she falls over the edge and kisses the Lieutenant._]

LYDIA. Gertrude! Have you gone crazy?

GERTRUDE. Oh, it’s all right. He’s going to be related by marriage. He’s Phil’s cousin. And I’m going to write to Phil this minute. [_Gertrude sits at the secretary. The Professor sits by the hearth, Margaret stands near him, Lydia is on the sofa, with her eyes riveted to the Lieutenant, who, not unnaturally embarrassed, has turned away and is lighting a cigarette at the desk candle._] How long will it be before he gets it? O Phil! My own dear! It’s all coming right at last. It’s all coming right!

[_Gertrude writes rapidly, her face in the candlelight seraphic with content. The Lieutenant turns and faces Lydia. She gravely inclines her head. He bows._]

LYDIA. You—are their leader?

LIEUTENANT. Yes, Madam.

LYDIA. You are—not very old.

[_Katherine proffers an ash-tray._]

LIEUTENANT. Thanks! I think I do not smoke.

KATHERINE. You look done out. Can’t you lie down a bit?

LIEUTENANT. I ought to keep afoot, I think, till my corporal reports.

[_Martha comes in at the rear door, left, with a tray, on which are two cups._]

MARTHA [_going to Lydia_]. Here is hot soup, ma’am. I made it for you and the Profes—

[_Her voice trails off as she sees the Lieutenant. Lydia waves aside the cup. Martha gives a cup to the Professor._]

KATHERINE [_going toward the writing room_]. You could lie down on the couch in the inner room. It is quite warm. My boy is asleep there. Why, you trust us, don’t you?

LIEUTENANT [_going to her_]. I trust you. It is two nights I have not shut my eyes. I think I will.

[_Martha goes out, rear door, left, with a last glance at the Lieutenant._]

LIEUTENANT. You are that lady—Katherine—my cousin wrote about?

KATHERINE. I’m Katherine, yes.

LIEUTENANT. Was I pretty beastly at first? I’m—tired. I don’t quite remember.

KATHERINE. You’ll feel better when you wake. Good rest. [_Holds out her hand._]

LIEUTENANT [_kissing her hand_]. Yes. That’s what I want. Rest!

[_The Lieutenant goes into the writing room. The curtains close upon him. Lydia, on the sofa, takes up and fondles his gauntlets. Presently she cries silently._]

PROFESSOR [_querulously_]. This soup is weak. [_Margaret takes his cup and sets it on mantle._] Thanks! But it is good to see Martha moving about.

KATHERINE. Why, Mother! Mother! [_Goes to Lydia._] You’re not crying? Oh, no! That isn’t like you.

LYDIA. He made me think of Basil. The same age—the cavalry uniform. He looked so tired! So cold! O God! My little boy—somewhere—tired, cold, suffering! My little boy! Send him home to me, God! That’s all I ask. That’s all I’ll ever ask. Send him home! Dear God! [_Sobs._]

KATHERINE. Oh, hush, dear! Hush!

PROFESSOR. Be reasonable, Lydia. Only compute how many people, on both sides of the frontier, are praying in just those terms. How can you believe that there is a God to hear and—

LYDIA. Why should He hear the foreigners? Superstitious wretches! They don’t know how to pray. But we have always served God and fought His good fight. He will listen to us. He must listen. Oh, my little boy! Let me see him again. Only let me see him. I’ll be satisfied.

MARGARET. What was that?

KATHERINE. Listen, Mother! Please!

MARGARET. I thought I heard Roland speak.

KATHERINE. Yes. It was in that room. [_She goes to the door of the writing room, and parts the curtains a very little._] No. It’s all quiet. It’s all right. [_Goes to Gertrude._] How are you coming on, Trudie?

GERTRUDE. I’m the happiest girl in the world. And I haven’t deserved it.

KATHERINE. Dear! Don’t be too—

GERTRUDE. Too sure? Why, I’m as sure of Phil as I am of the stars in Heaven. If he’s alive—and he is alive. I know it. I feel it. And when he gets my letter— Bless that little lieutenant! Bless my Phil! God bless us every one this night. [_Writes._]

[_The Corporal comes in at the left forward door._]

CORPORAL. Well! Where’s the Lieutenant?

KATHERINE. He is lying down in the inner room. [_The Corporal starts toward the writing room._] Must you disturb him?

CORPORAL. I’ll look once at him. [_Parts the curtains slightly._] Dark in there! Give us here a candle. [_Katherine fetches a candle from the secretary._] He is, you see, my foster-brother, and my old woman, she will have my skin, if I let him come down with pneumonia.

KATHERINE [_giving him the candle_]. Here you are! Go softly, won’t you?

[_The Corporal goes into the writing room._]

PROFESSOR. You see, it is as I assured you. There are established rules of warfare, as you women fail to realize, and under those rules—

[_The Corporal appears in the doorway of the writing room. His quietude is dreadful. At sight of him the Professor is paralyzed into silence._]

CORPORAL. Which of you did it?

[_All rise. The Corporal thrusts aside the curtains, between which he is standing. The interior of the writing room is disclosed, under the flickering light of the candle, which he evidently has set at one side. Across the wall, where formerly stood the bookcases, is a crib, on which lies Roland, cowering beneath the bed-clothes. Diagonally, head to the crib, is drawn a couch, upon which, half covered with a rug, lies the Lieutenant, stretched upon his back, with one arm trailing on the floor. There is a dark smear across his throat, and upon the pillow and the sheet._]

CORPORAL. Come! Speak up!

PROFESSOR [_babbling_]. What, what, what!

GERTRUDE. O my God!

KATHERINE [_in a suffocated voice_]. Roland! Roland! [_Rushes to the writing room._]

CORPORAL [_intercepting her, grasping her arms_]. No, you don’t! Make a man to lie down and rest, and he trusting you, you hell-cat!

[_Several troopers rush into the room by the door left back._]

KATHERINE [_shrieking_]. Roland! Roland! Have they killed you, too?

FIRST TROOPER. What’s the matter?

CORPORAL. Cut the Lieutenant’s throat, and he asleep.

GERTRUDE [_rushing to Katherine’s aid_]. No, no! [_Flings herself upon the Corporal._] Let go of her!

ROLAND. Mummy! Mummy!

[_Katherine breaks from the Corporal, rushes to the crib, and lifts Roland in her arms._]

KATHERINE. Yes, yes! Mother’s here.

ROLAND. Don’t let her hurt me! I’m afraid.

KATHERINE. Shut your eyes! Don’t look, dear! Don’t look! [_Brings him down into the main room._]

ROLAND. Why did she do it? With the kitchen knife. Why did Martha do it?

GERTRUDE. Martha!

ROLAND. She came through the door. O Mummy! I’m afraid.

[_Katherine sits on the sofa, with Roland in her arms. Lydia hurries to her, and puts her shawl about him. Katherine drags off her knitted jacket to wrap around the child._]

CORPORAL. Call in the patrol.

FIRST TROOPER. Yes, sir. [_Runs to window right forward._]

CORPORAL. Find that other woman!

[_Two Troopers go out through the writing room._]

FIRST TROOPER. Hey! They’re just making the rounds. [_Dashes window open._] Hey, come in here! If you please, sir. [_Turns to Corporal._] It’s grand rounds, sir.

ROLAND. I’m cold, Mummy.

KATHERINE. That draught— Oh, close the window, in pity’s name!

[_The Troopers come in from the writing room, dragging Martha between them._]

SECOND TROOPER. Here she is, sir.

LYDIA. Martha! You couldn’t have done it. No, no!

ROLAND. Oh, I’m afraid.

[_At the forward door, left, come in two Troopers, who stand aside at attention. The Foreign Major follows them in—a tall, thin man, pale-featured, impersonal as Death, and as weary._]

MAJOR. Well? What is now here?

CORPORAL. Our lieutenant, sir, murdered while he was asleep. There’s the woman did it.

MAJOR [_going to Martha_]. Have you anything to say?

MARTHA [_taking the child’s glove from her bosom_]. That is Patty’s glove I knitted. That is all. My sister, the little baby, Patty—all three. When your soldiers came into our town.

MAJOR. It was in the north, your town?

MARTHA. It used to be.

MAJOR. The man you killed was three hundred miles away from there. You were stupid to do this. [_Turns to the Troopers._] Take her down into the street. Shoot her. Let the neighbors see.

[_The two last-comers of the troopers lay hold of Martha._]

KATHERINE. Oh, no! Can’t you see for yourself that she’s insane?

MAJOR. Take her along!

MARTHA [_breaks loose, rushes to Lydia_]. No, no, no! I wouldn’t so much as kill a mouse. You know I wouldn’t. [_The Troopers seize her and drag her to the door._] No, no! I’m afraid of the guns. Don’t kill me! Oh, oh! The guns! Don’t kill me! No, no, no!

[_The Troopers drag Martha out at the forward door, left. The door goes to upon her cries._]

MAJOR. Clear the house at once. Then burn it.

[_At a sign from the Corporal, two Troopers go into the writing room, cover the body of the Lieutenant with a sheet, and remove the couch, with the body upon it._]

KATHERINE. Where are we to go?

MAJOR. Outside our lines. See that they go! [_Turns away to the door._] It is merciful we do not shoot you all.

GERTRUDE [_running to him_]. Oh! Can’t you see my mother is old—and the little boy is ill—and this paper—he left this paper. See! He asked that we be protected.

MAJOR. Yes. You have killed the one man would have saved you. Tear up your paper now. In three minutes. Burn the house.

[_The Major goes out at the forward door, left._]

KATHERINE. Trudie! Bring shoes for Roland!

CORPORAL. No, you don’t! Right as you stand, all of you. Come on now! [_Comes down into the room._] Clear the house!

LYDIA [_rising_]. No, no! The boy—

PROFESSOR [_starting feebly to snatch down the sword from beneath the picture_]. My father’s house—his sword! I will not go alive!

CORPORAL [_striking him contemptuously_]. You damned old fool! Get out!

PROFESSOR [_broken_]. O my God!

LYDIA [_going to him_]. That is foolish, Charles. Before you were right. There is no God. Come!

[_Moving with dignity, Lydia leads out the old man at the left. Margaret hurries after them._]

CORPORAL. All of you!

KATHERINE. It will kill my boy.

CORPORAL. It was a mother’s boy you killed in there. Will you get out? Or shall we—

FIRST TROOPER [_at the window_]. Hi! They’ve got her up against the wall. She’ll get it now. [_From the street comes Martha’s shriek._] Damn ye, go burn!

[_Simultaneously with the shriek and his cry, sounds a volley of rifles._]

ROLAND. Mummy! Mummy!

KATHERINE. Dear, we’ll carry you. Come, Gertrude!

[_Carrying between them the child, huddled in the shawl and the knitted jacket, the two women move toward the door._]

ROLAND. I’m so cold, Mummy! I’m so cold!

[_As Katherine and Gertrude go out, forward door, left, with Roland, Troopers rush in through all three doors. First Trooper with his carbine smashes the glass in the secretary. Others tear down the hangings, demolish the chairs, smash the bookcases, all with half audible imprecations. The Corporal directs the havoc._]

CORPORAL. Bring more petrol! There’s a barrel below. Tear down that rag. It will make a blaze. We’ll show them! Hurry up that petrol! [_A Trooper tears down the flag from beneath the picture and casts it among the débris. A Third Trooper runs in with a can of petrol, which he pours upon the mass._] Kill our men sleeping, damn them!

[_With his carbine the Corporal smashes the chandelier above the table. A Fourth Trooper snatches from the hearth blazing coals in a shovel and hurls them upon the heap of broken furniture._]

CURTAIN