The Return of Peter Grimm by David Belasco (classic reads .TXT) 📕

me! Hear me! [_Calling loudly._] Hear me! Hear me! Hear me! Will nobody hear me? Is there no one in this house to hear me? No one? Has my journey been in vain?... [_For the first time fully realizing the situation._] Oh, must we stand or fall by the mistakes we made here and the deed we did? Is there no second chance in this world?

FREDERIK. [_With a sneer on his lips as though trying to banish his thoughts._] Psh!

MARTA _enters with a tray, containing a pot of coffee and a plate of small cakes._ PETER, _who has watched her with appealing eyes, like a dog craving attention, glances from her to the desk and from the desk back to_ MARTA--_trying to tempt her to look at the torn letter._ FREDERIK, _deep in thought, does not notice her._ PETER _points to the desk as though to say, "Look!" After a pause, she picks up the picture and the letter-- holding them in one hand to clear a spot for the tray which she is about to set on the desk._

PETER. [_Speaking in a hushed voice._] Marta, see what you have in your hand ... that letter ... there ... read it.... Run to Catherine with it. Read it from the house-tops.... The letter ... Look! There you have the story of Annamarie.... It is the one way to know the truth in this house-- the only way.... There in your hand--the letter.... He will never speak.... The letter for Catherine.

MARTA _sets down the picture and the letter; but something prompts her to look at them; however, before she can carry out her impulse,_ FREDERIK _starts up._

FREDERIK. My God! How you startled me! [MARTA _sets down the tray._] Oh! To be off and out of this old rat-trap. [_He wipes his forehead with his black-bordered handkerchief._] I mean--our loss comes home to us so keenly here where we are accustomed to see him.

MARTA. A cup of coffee, sir?

FREDERIK. No, no, no.

MARTA. [_Pathetically._] I thought you wished to keep to your uncle's customs.... He always took it at this time.

FREDERIK. [_Recovering._] Yes, yes, of course.

MARTA. ... No word?...

FREDERIK. [_Hesitates._] What do you mean?

MARTA. No letter?

FREDERIK. Letter?... [_Covering the letter with his hand._] From whom?...

MARTA. From ... At a time like this, I thought ... I felt ... that Annamarie ... that there should be some message.... Every day I expect to hear ...

FREDERIK. No.

PETER _gestures to_ MARTA--_pointing to the picture and letter, now covered by_ FREDERIK'S _hand._

MARTA. [_Hesitating._] Are you certain?

FREDERIK. Quite certain. [_She curtsies and leaves the room._ FREDERIK, _as though relieved to see her go, jumps to his feet, and, tearing the letter in smaller pieces, lights them in the candle, dropping the burning pieces on a tray. As the flame dies out,_ FREDERIK _brushes the blackened paper into the waste-basket._] There's an end to _that_!

PETER _crouches near the basket--hovering over it, his hinds clasped helplessly. After a pause, he raises his hand, until it points to a bedroom above. An echo of the circus music is very faintly heard; not with the blaring of brasses, but with the sounds of elfin horns, conveying the impression of a phantom circus band. The door of_ WILLIAM'S _room opens, and he comes out as though to listen to the music. He wears a sleeping suit and is bare-footed. He has come down stairs before_ FREDERIK _sees him._ FREDERIK _quickly puts aside the photograph, laying it on the desk, covering it with his hand._

FREDERIK. [_Gruffly._] Why aren't you in bed? If you're ill, that's the proper place for you.

WILLIAM. I came down to hear the circus music.

FREDERIK. Circus music?

WILLIAM. It woke me up.

FREDERIK. The circus left town days ago. You must have been dreaming.

WILLIAM. The band's playing now. Don't you hear it, sir? The procession's passing. [_He runs to the window and opens it. The music stops. A breeze sweeps through the room--bellies out the curtains and causes the lustres to jingle on the mantel. Surprised._] No. It's almost dark. There's no procession ... no shining horses.... [_Turning sadly away from the window._] I wonder what made me think the--I must have been dreaming. [_Rubbing his eyes._

FREDERIK. [_Goes to the window, closes it. The child looks at him and, in retreating from him, unconsciously backs towards_ PETER.] Are you feeling better?

WILLIAM. Yes, sir, I feel better--and hungry.

FREDERIK. Go back to bed.

WILLIAM. Yes, sir. [FREDERIK _sits._

PETER. Where's your mother, William?

WILLIAM. Do you know where Annamarie is?

PETER. Ah!

FREDERIK. Why do you ask me? What should I know of her?

WILLIAM. Grandmother doesn't know; Miss Catherine doesn't know; nobody knows.

FREDERIK. I don't know, either. [_Tears up the picture--turning so that_ WILLIAM _does not see what he is doing._ PETER, _who has been smiling at_ WILLIAM, _motions him to come nearer._ WILLIAM, _feeling_ PETER'S _presence, looks round the room._

WILLIAM. Mr. Frederik, where's _old_ Mr. Grimm?

FREDERIK. Dead.

WILLIAM. Are you sure he's dead? 'Cause--[_Puzzled--unable to explain himself, he hesitates._

FREDERIK. [_Annoyed._.] You'd better go to bed.

WILLIAM. [_Pointing to a glass of water on a tray._] Can I have a drink of water, please?

FREDERIK. Go to bed, sir, or you'll be punished. Water's not good for little boys with fever.

WILLIAM. [_Going towards the stairs._] Wish I could find a cold brook and lie in it. [_Goes slowly up the stairs._ FREDERIK _would destroy the pieces of the picture; but_ PETER _faces him as though forbidding him to touch it, and, for the first time,_ FREDERIK _imagines he sees the apparition of his uncle._

FREDERIK. [_In a very low voice--almost inaudibly._] My God! I thought I saw ... [_Receding a step and yet another step as the vision of_ PETER _is still before him, he passes out of the room, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead._ WILLIAM, _hearing the door close, comes down stairs and, running to the table at back, drinks a glass of water._

WILLIAM. Um! That's good!

PETER. William! [WILLIAM _doesn't see_ PETER _yet, but he feels his influence._

WILLIAM. Wish it _had_ been the circus music.

PETER. You shall hear it all again. [_Gestures towards the plate of cakes on the tray._] Come, William, here's something very nice.

WILLIAM. [_Seeing the cakes._] Um! Cakes! [_He steals to the tray, looking over his shoulder in fear of being caught._

PETER. Don't be frightened. I'm here to protect you. Help yourself to the cakes. William, do you think you could deliver a message for me ... a very important message?...

_The circus music is heard._ WILLIAM _sits at the tray and_ PETER _seats himself opposite as though he were the host doing the honours._ WILLIAM, _being unconsciously coaxed by_ PETER, _is prevailed upon to choose the biggest cake. He takes a bite, looking towards_ PETER.

WILLIAM. [_To himself._] Ha!... Think I am dreaming. [_Rubbing his little stomach ecstatically._] Hope I won't wake up and find there wasn't any cake.

PETER. Don't worry, you won't. [WILLIAM _has taken another piece of cake which he nibbles at--now holding a piece in each hand._] Pretty substantial dream, eh? There's a fine, fat raisin. [WILLIAM _eats the raisin, then looks into the sugar-bowl._] Don't hesitate, William. Sugar won't hurt you now. Nothing can hurt you any more. Fall to, William--help yourself. [WILLIAM _looks over his shoulder, fearing the return of_ FREDERIK.] Oh, he won't come back in a hurry. Ha! Frederik thought he saw me, William; well, he didn't. He had a bad conscience--hallucination. [WILLIAM _nibbles a lump of sugar._] Now, William, I have a message for you. Won't you try and take it for me, eh? [_But_ WILLIAM _eats another lump of sugar._] I see ... I can't expect to get any assistance from a boy while his little stomach's calling. [WILLIAM _empties the cream jug and helps himself to cakes. Presently the music dies out._] Now I'm going to tell you something. [_Impressively._] You're a very lucky boy, William; I congratulate you. Do you know why--of all this household--you are the only one to help me?... This is the secret: in a little time--it won't be long--you're going--[_As though he were imparting the most delightful information._]--to know better! Think of _that_! Isn't the news splendid? [_But_ WILLIAM _eats on._] Think of what most of us have to endure before _we_ know better! Why, William, you're going into the circus without paying for a ticket. You're laying down the burden before you climb the hill. And in your case, William, you are fortunate indeed; for there are some little soldiers in this world already handicapped when they begin the battle of life.... Their parents haven't fitted them for the struggle.... Like little moon moths,--they look in at the windows; they beat at the panes; they see the lights of happy firesides--the lights of home; but they never get in.... You are one of these wanderers, William.... And so, it is well for you that before your playing time is over--before your man's work begins,--you're going to know the great secret. Happy boy! No coarsening of your child's heart, until you stand before the world like Frederik; no sweat and toil such as dear old James is facing; no dimming of the eye and trembling of the hand such as the poor old Doctor shall know in time to come; no hot tears to blister your eyes, ... tears such as Katie is shedding now; but, in all your youth, your faith--your innocence,--you'll fall asleep and oh! the awakening, William!... "It is well with the _child_." [WILLIAM _lays down the cake and, clasping his hands, thinks._ PETER _answers his thoughts._] What? No--don't think of it! Nonsense! You _don't_ want to grow up to be a man. Grow up to fail? Or, still worse--to succeed--to be famous? To wear a heavy laurel wreath? A wreath to be held up by tired hands that ache for one hour's freedom. No, no, you're to escape all that, William; joy is on the way to meet you with sweets in its outstretched hands and laughter on its lips. [WILLIAM _takes the last swallow of a piece of cake, exclaims_ "Hm!" _in a satisfied way, brushes the crumbs off his lap, and sits back in his chair._] Have you had enough? Good! William, I want you to try to understand that you're to help me, will you? Will you tell Miss Catherine that--

WILLIAM. [_Without looking up, his hands folded in his lap._] Take me back with you, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. Can you see me, William?

WILLIAM. No, sir; but I know.

PETER. Come here. [WILLIAM _doesn't move._] Here ... here ... [WILLIAM _advances to the center of the room and pauses hesitatingly._] Take my hand ... [WILLIAM _approaches in the direction of the voice._ PETER _takes_ WILLIAM'S _outstretched hand._] Have you got it?

WILLIAM. No, sir....

PETER. [_Putting his hand on_ WILLIAM'S _head._] Now?... Do you feel it?

WILLIAM. I feel something, yes, sir. [_Puts his hand on_ PETER'S _hand, which is still on his head._] But where's your hand? There's nothing there.

PETER. But you hear me?

WILLIAM. I can't really hear you.... It's a dream. [_Coaxingly._] Oh, Mr. Grimm, take me back with you.

PETER. You're not quite ready to go with me yet, William--not until we can see each other face to face.

WILLIAM. Why did you come back, Mr. Grimm? Wasn't it nice where you were?

PETER. It was indeed. It was like--[_Whimsically._]--new toys.

WILLIAM. [_To