Anna Christie by Eugene O'Neill

Author:Eugene O'Neill [O'Neill, Eugene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Plays & Screenplays
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

ACT IV

SCENE—Same as Act Three, about nine o’clock of a foggy night two days later. The whistles of steamers in the harbor can be heard. The cabin is lighted by a small lamp on the table. A suitcase stands in the middle of the floor. ANNA is sitting in the rocking-chair. She wears a hat, is all dressed up as in Act One. Her face is pale, looks terribly tired and worn, as if the two days just past had been ones of suffering and sleepless nights. She stares before her despondently, her chin in her hands. There is a timid knock on the door in rear. ANNA jumps to her feet with a startled exclamation and looks toward the door with an expression of mingled hope and fear.

ANNA—[Faintly.] Come in. [Then summoning her courage—more resolutely.] Come in. [The door is opened and CHRIS appears in the doorway. He is in a very bleary, bedraggled condition, suffering from the after effects of his drunk. A tin pail full of foaming beer is in his hand. He comes forward, his eyes avoiding ANNA’S. He mutters stupidly.] It’s foggy.

ANNA—[Looking him over with contempt.] So you come back at last, did you? You’re a fine looking sight! [Then jeeringly.] I thought you’d beaten it for good on account of the disgrace I’d brought on you.

CHRIS—[Wincing-faintly.] Don’t say dat, Anna, please! [He sits in a chair by the table, setting down the can of beer, holding his head in his hands]

ANNA—[Looks at him with a certain sympathy.] What’s the trouble? Feeling sick?

CHRIS—[Dully.] Inside my head feel sick.

ANNA—Well, what d’you expect after being soused for two days? [Resentfully.] It serves you right. A fine thing—you leaving me alone on this barge all that time!

CHRIS—[Humbly.] Ay’m sorry, Anna.

ANNA—[Scornfully] Sorry!

CHRIS—But Ay’m not sick inside head vay you mean. Ay’m sick from tank too much about you, about me.

ANNA—And how about me? D’you suppose I ain’t been thinking, too?

CHRIS—Ay’m sorry, Anna. [He sees her bag and gives a start] You pack your bag, Anna? You vas going—?

ANNA—[Forcibly.] Yes, I was going right back to what you think.

CHRIS—Anna!

ANNA—I went ashore to get a train for New York. I’d been waiting and waiting ‘till I was sick of it. Then I changed my mind and decided not to go to-day. But I’m going first thing to-morrow, so it’ll all be the same in the end.

CHRIS—[Raising his head—pleadingly] No, you never do dat, Anna!

ANNA—[With a sneer.] Why not, I’d like to know?

CHRIS—You don’t never gat to do—dat vay—no more, Ay tal you. Ay fix dat up all right.

ANNA—[Suspiciously.] Fix what up?

CHRIS—[Not seeming to have heard her question—sadly.] You vas vaiting, you say? You vasn’t vaiting for me, Ay bet.

ANNA—[Callously.] You’d win.

CHRIS—For dat Irish fallar?

ANNA—[Defiantly.] Yes—if you want to know! [Then with a forlorn laugh.] If he did come back it’d only because he wanted to beat me up or kill me, I suppose. But even if he did, I’d rather have him come than not show up at all. I wouldn’t care what he did.

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