The Naturewoman Part 10

OCEANA. It represents the wors.h.i.+p of Nature. It portrays an awakening from slumber... you know the soft part of the music at the beginning...

ETHEL. Yes.

OCEANA. Then gradually I rise to my feet and gaze towards the light. There is the sun s.h.i.+ning upon the waves of the sea, and upon the palm branches. All life is awakening and singing for joy... and so the music rises to an ecstasy.

ETHEL. And do you dance other things?

OCEANA. Oh, yes-lots of things.

ETHEL. Oh, Oceana! I'm just wild to see you!

OCEANA. And I'm wild to dance. I must have some vent pretty soon. You see, at home I was out of doors all the time. I hunted and fished, I swam and dived, I danced on the beach. And here... why, I walk down the street, and I daren't even so much as sing out loud. I have to remember that I'm a young lady, and have an ermine cloak on! Truly, I don't see how you ever stand it!

ETHEL. We were brought up that way.

OCEANA. Yes; and that's why you're undeveloped and frail. But tell me, don't you ever have an impulse to play? That beautiful snow out there-don't you want to tumble round in it and pelt each other with s...o...b..a.l.l.s?

FREDDY. We did that when we were children.

OCEANA. Yes, that's the way. But I, you see... I'm a child still; and I expect to be always.

ETHEL. And are you always happy, Oceana?

OCEANA. Always.

ETHEL. You never... you never even start to feel sad?

OCEANA. Why yes, now and then. But I don't permit such moods. You see, I have the conviction that there is nothing beautiful or right about sorrow-never, under any circ.u.mstances.

ETHEL. You mean you would not mourn, even if some one you loved were to die?

OCEANA. I mean that I did not. [She pauses.] Yes, exactly... my father. He had been my life's companion, and they brought him home drowned; and yet I did not mourn.

ETHEL. Oceana!

OCEANA. I had trained myself... for just that. We had made ourselves what you might call soul-exercises; little ceremonies to remind ourselves of things we wished to hold by. The Sunrise Dance was one of those. And then, on the last day of each month, at sunset, we would sit and watch the shadows fade, and contemplate death. [She pauses, gravely.] We would say to ourselves that we, too, were shadows ... rainbows in the sea-mist; that we held our life as a gift... we carried it in our hands, ready to give it up when we heard the call. [A pause.]

HENRY. [Opens door centre and enters. Sees OCEANA and halts.] Oh!

OCEANA. [Turns and sees him.] Why! Here's a man! [They gaze at each other, transfixed.] Ethel! Who is he?

ETHEL. Why, this is Henry. Let.i.tia's husband.

OCEANA. Oh! Let.i.tia's husband! [With a sudden, frank gesture, putting out her hand.] Henry!

HENRY. Oceana!

[As their hands meet, they stand looking into each other's faces.]

OCEANA. [Gripping his hand tightly.] You are strong! [Looks at his hand.] And you do not smoke, either! Let me see your eyes.

HENRY. [Perplexed.] My eyes?

OCEANA. Your eyes. [Turns him toward the light; studies his eyes.] They dosed you with quinine! Malaria, I suppose?

HENRY. Why... yes. But how can you tell?

OCEANA. I can tell many things. Let me see your tongue.

HENRY. [Bewildered.] My tongue?

OCEANA. Your tongue.

HENRY. But what for?

OCEANA. I can tell more about a man by looking at his tongue for a minute than by listening to it for a week.

HENRY. But, Oceana-

OCEANA. I am in earnest.

HENRY. [Laughs.] Why... really...

OCEANA. Are you afraid?

HENRY. Good heavens, no!

OCEANA. Put it out. [He pats his tongue out and she examines it.] So! A man with a red tongue! And in a civilized city!

HENRY. Oughtn't it to be red?

OCEANA. And he doesn't know what it ought to be! How delicious! [She steps back from him.] And so you are Let.i.tia's husband. Tell me, are you happy with her?

HENRY. [Startled; stares at her intently.] No, no... you ought not to ask me that.

OCEANA. Why not?

HENRY. [In a low voice.] Because you know.

OCEANA. Yes, that's true. [A pause; she changes the subject.] I have heard my father speak of you often.

HENRY. He remembered me, did he? I was only twenty when he went away.

OCEANA. He said that he taught you to play single-stick.

HENRY. Ah yes, to be sure!

OCEANA. He taught me also.