Читать книгу Joy in the Morning - Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews - Страница 5
SECOND ACT
ОглавлениеThe scene it the same trench one hundred years later, in the year 2018. It is ten o'clock of a summer morning. Two French children have come to the trench to pick flowers. The little girl of seven is gentle and soft-hearted; her older brother is a man of nearly ten years, and feels his patriotism and his responsibilities.
Angélique
(The little French girl.) Here's where they grow, Jean-B'tiste.
Jean-Baptiste
(The little French boy.) I know. They bloom bigger blooms in the American ditch.
Angélique
(Climbs into the ditch and picks flowers busily.) Why do people call it the 'Merican ditch, Jean-B'tiste? What's 'Merican?
Jean-Baptiste
(Ripples laughter.) One's little sister doesn't know much! Never mind. One is so young—three years younger than I am. I'm ten, you know.
Angélique
Tiens, Jean-B'tiste. Not ten till next month.
[pg 009]
Jean-Baptiste
Oh, but—but—next month!
Angélique
What's 'Merican?
Jean-Baptiste
Droll p'tite. Why, everybody in all France knows that name. Of American.
Angélique
(Unashamed.) Do they? What is it?
Jean-Baptiste
It's the people that live in the so large country across the ocean. They came over and saved all our lives, and France.
Angélique
(Surprised.) Did they save my life, Jean-B'tiste?
Jean-Baptiste
Little drôle. You weren't born.
Angélique
Oh! Whose life did they then save? Maman's?
Jean-Baptiste
But no. She was not born either.
Angélique
Whose life, then—the grandfather's?
Jean-Baptiste
But—even he was not born. (Disconcerted by Angélique's direct tactics.) One sees they could not save the lives of people who were not here. But—they were brave—but [pg 010] yes—and friends to France. And they came across the ocean to fight for France. Big, strong young soldiers in brown uniforms—the grandfather told me about it yesterday. I know it all. His father told him, and he was here. In this field. (Jean-Baptiste looks about the meadow, where the wind blows flowers and wheat.) There was a large battle—a fight very immense. It was not like this then. It was digged over with ditches and the soldiers stood in the ditches and shot at the wicked Germans in the other ditches. Lots and lots of soldiers died.
Angélique
(Lips trembling.) Died—in ditches?
Jean-Baptiste
(Grimly.) Yes, it is true.
Angélique
(Breaks into sobs.) I can't bear you to tell me that. I can't bear the soldiers to—die—in ditches.
Jean-Baptiste
(Pats her shoulder.) I'm sorry I told you if it makes you cry. You are so little. But it was one hundred years ago. They're dead now.
Angélique
(Rubs her eyes with her dress and [pg 011] smiles.) Yes, they're quite dead now. So—tell me some more.
Jean-Baptiste
But I don't want to make you cry more, p'tite. You're so little.
Angélique
I'm not very little. I'm bigger than Anne-Marie Dupont, and she's eight.
Jean-Baptiste
But no. She's not eight till next month. She told me.
Angélique
Oh, well—next month. Me, I want to hear about the brave 'Mericans. Did they make this ditch to stand in and shoot the wicked Germans?
Jean-Baptiste
They didn't make it, but they fought the wicked Germans in a brave, wonderful charge, the bravest sort, the grandfather said. And they took the ditch away from the wicked Germans, and then—maybe you'll cry.
Angélique
I won't. I promise you I won't.
Jean-Baptiste
Then, when the ditch—only they called it a trench—was well full of American soldiers, the wicked Germans got a machine gun at the end of it and fired all the way along—the [pg 012] grandfather called it enfiladed—and killed every American in the whole long ditch.
Angélique
(Bursts into tears again; buries her face in her skirt.) I—I'm sorry I cry, but the 'Mericans were so brave and fought—for France—and it was cruel of the wicked Germans to—to shoot them.
Jean-Baptiste
The wicked Germans were always cruel. But the grandfather says it's quite right now, and as it should be, for they are now a small and weak nation, and scorned and watched by other nations, so that they shall never be strong again. For the grandfather says they are not such as can be trusted—no, never the wicked Germans. The world will not believe their word again. They speak not the truth. Once they nearly smashed the world, when they had power. So it is looked to by all nations that never again shall Germany be powerful. For they are sly, and cruel as wolves, and only intelligent to be wicked. That is what the grandfather says.
Angélique
Me, I'm sorry for the poor wicked [pg 013] Germans that they are so bad. It is not nice to be bad. One is punished.
Jean-Baptiste
(Sternly.) It is the truth. One is always punished. As long as the world lasts it will be a punishment to be a German. But as long as France lasts there will be a nation to love the name of America, one sees. For the Americans were generous and brave. They left their dear land and came and died for us, to keep us free in France from the wicked Germans.
Angélique
(Lip trembles.) I'm sorry—they died.
Jean-Baptiste
But, p'tite! That was one hundred years ago. It is necessary that they would have been dead by now in every case. It was more glorious to die fighting for freedom and France than just to die—fifty years later. Me, I'd enjoy very much to die fighting. But look! You pulled up the roots. And what is that thing hanging to the roots—not a rock?
Angélique
No, I think not a rock. (She takes the object in her hands and knocks dirt from it.) But what is it, Jean-B'tiste?
[pg 014]
Jean-Baptiste
It's—but never mind. I can't always know everything, don't you see, Angélique? It's just something of one of the Americans who died in the ditch. One is always finding something in these old battle-fields.
Angélique
(Rubs the object with her dress. Takes a handful of sand and rubs it on the object. Spits on it and rubs the sand.) V'là, Jean-B'tiste—it shines.
Jean-Baptiste
(Loftily.) Yes. It is nothing, that. One finds such things.
Angélique
(Rubbing more.) And there are letters on it.
Jean-Baptiste
Yes. It is nothing, that. One has flowers en masse now, and it is time to go home. Come then, p'tite, drop the dirty bit of brass and pick up your pretty flowers. Tiens! Give me your hand. I'll pull you up the side of the ditch. (Jean-Baptiste turns as they start.) I forgot the thing which the grandfather told me I must do always. (He stands at attention.) Au revoir, brave Americans. One salutes your immortal glory. (Exit Jean-Baptiste and Angélique.)
[pg 015]
