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She hands it to Jean and he reads.
Jean--But I cannot pay. Next week perhaps I shall get work--
The Landlady--(Scornfully)--Yes--Next week maybe I have to sell
another liberty bond for seventy dollars what I paid a hundred
dollars for, too. No sir I need the money NOW. Here--
She writes and hands it to him.
Jean (Reading)--Sell my piano? But please I cannot do that--yet.
The Landlady--A lot of good a piano does a deef person like you.
That's a good one--( She laughs harshly). The deef musician--ho
ho-- with a piano.
Jean--Madam, I shall pay you surely next week. There has been
some delay in my war risk insurance payment. I should think that
you would trust a soldier who lost his hearing in the trenches--
The Landlady--That's old stuff. You soldiers think just because
you were unlucky enough to get drafted you can spend the rest of
your life patting yourselves on the back. Besides--what good did
the war do anyway-- except make a lot of rich people richer?
She scribbles emphatically "Either you pay up tonight or out you
go."
Handing this to Jean with a flourish, she exits.
He sits on the bed for a long time.
Finally he glances up at the wall over his bed where hangs a
cheap photo frame. In the center is a picture of President
Wilson; on one side of this is a crude print of a soldier, on the
other side a sailor; above is the inscription "For the Freedom of
the World."
Jean takes down the picture and looks at it. As he replaces it
on the wall he sees hanging above it the bayonet which he had
carried through the war. He slowly takes the weapon down, runs
his fingers along the edge and smiles--a quiet tired smile which
does not leave his face during the rest of the scene.
He walks over to the piano and plays the opening chords of the
Schumann concerto. Then shaking his head sadly, he tenderly
closes down the lid and locks it.
He next writes a note which he folds and places, with the key to
the piano, in an envelope. Sealing and addressing the envelope,
he places it on the piano. Then, walking over to the bed, he
picks up the bayonet, and shutting his eyes for an instant, he
steps forward and cuts his throat as the curtain falls.
SCENE 3
Same as Act 1, Scene 1 except for the changes made in the city
street by a year or more of peace.
The arch across the thoroughfare still stands, although it has
become badly discolored and dirty; the inscription "For the
Freedom of the World" is but faintly visible. As the curtain
rises workmen are busy at work tearing the arch down.
Enter the Angel and the Professor's Son.
The Angel--Stand over here, out of the way, and you'll see the
last of your cronies--Pat, the Streetcleaner's Son-- enjoying the
gratitude of the world.
The Professor's Son does not answer.
Enter Pat. He has on an old pair of corduroy trousers, with his
brown army shirt, and shoes out at the heel.
He looks as if he had not slept for days certainly he has not
shaved for a week. He approaches one of the workmen.
Pat--Say buddy any chance for a job here?
The Workman--Hell no. They was fifty applicants yesterday.
(Looking at his army shirt) Most of them ex-soldiers like you.
Jobs is mighty scarce.
Pat--I'll tell the world they are. I'd almost join the army
again, except for my wife and kid.
The Workman--God--don't do it.
Pat--Why--was you across?
The Workman--Yes, God damn it--eight months. Next war I'll let
somebody else do the fighting.
Pat--Same here. The wise guys were them that stayed at home and
kept their jobs.
The Workman--I'll say they were.
Pat--(Growing more excited)--And while we was over there
fighting, nothing was too good for us--"brave boys," they said,
"we shall never forget what you have done for us." Never
forget--hell! In about a year everybody forgot there ever was a
war and a fellow has a hell of a time getting a job--and when you
mention the war they just laugh--why God damn it, I've been out
of work for six months and I ain't no loafer either and my wife
has had to go back to her folks and I'm just about all in--
During this speech the work on dismantling the arch has steadily
progressed. Suddenly there comes a warning cry--"Look out"--as
the supports unexpectedly give way. Pat is too engrossed in his
tirade to take heed, and as the center portion of the arch falls
it crushes him beneath its weight. After the cloud of dust
clears, he is seen lying under the mass. By a curious twist of
fate he has been crushed by the portion of the arch bearing the
inscription "For the Freedom of the World." His eyes open for an
instant--he reads, through the mist of approaching death, the
words, and he laughs--
Pat--For the Freedom of the World--Oh Christ!
His mocking laughter is interrupted by a severe fit of coughing
and he sinks back dead.
The Professor's Son--Oh God--take me somewhere where I can't ever
see the world.
The angel--Come to heaven.
CURTAIN
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