Free Long Day's Journey into Night (Yale Nota Bene) by Eugene O'Neill, Harold Bloom Page B

on the table top. Tyrone’s voice, trying to conceal, reveals that he is hearing bad news.
    I see—
    Hurriedly.
    Well, you’ll explain all about it when you see him this afternoon. Yes, he’ll be in without fail. Four o’clock. I’ll drop in myself and have a talk with you before that. I have to go uptown on business, anyway. Goodbye, Doctor.
EDMUND
    Dully.
    That didn’t sound like glad tidings.
    Jamie gives him a pitying glance—then looks out the window again. Mary’s face is terrified and her hands flutter distractedly. Tyrone comes in. The strain is obvious in his casualness as he addresses Edmund.
TYRONE
    It was Doctor Hardy. He wants you to be sure and see him at four.
EDMUND
    Dully.
    What did he say? Not that I give a damn now.
MARY
    Bursts out excitedly.
    I wouldn’t believe him if he swore on a stack of Bibles. You mustn’t pay attention to a word he says, Edmund.
TYRONE
    Sharply.
    Mary!
MARY
    More excitedly.
    Oh, we all realize why you like him, James! Because he’s cheap! But please don’t try to tell me! I know all about Doctor Hardy. Heaven knows I ought to after all these years. He’s an ignorant fool! There should be a law to keep men like him from practicing. He hasn’t the slightest idea— When you’re in agony and half insane, he sits and holds your hand and delivers sermons on will power!
    Her face is drawn in an expression of intense suffering by the memory. For the moment she loses all caution. With bitter hatred.
    He deliberately humiliates you! He makes you beg and plead! He treats you like a criminal! He understands nothing! And yet it was exactly the same type of cheap quack who first gave you the medicine—and you never knew what it was until too late!
    Passionately.
    I hate doctors! They’ll do anything—anything to keep you coming to them. They’ll sell their souls! What’s worse, they’ll sell yours, and you never know it till one day you find yourself in hell!
EDMUND
    Mama! For God’s sake, stop talking.
TYRONE
    Shakenly.
    Yes, Mary, it’s no time—
MARY
    Suddenly is overcome by guilty confusion—stammers.
    I— Forgive me, dear. You’re right. It’s useless to be angry now.
    There is again a pause of dead silence. When she speaks again, her face has cleared and is calm, and the quality of uncanny detachment is in her voice and manner.
    I’m going upstairs for a moment, if you’ll excuse me. I have to fix my hair.
    She adds smilingly.
    That is if I can find my glasses. I’ll be right down.
TYRONE
    As she starts through the doorway—pleading and rebuking.
    Mary!
MARY
    Turns to stare at him calmly.
    Yes, dear? What is it?
TYRONE
    Helplessly.
    Nothing.
MARY
    With a strange derisive smile.
    You’re welcome to come up and watch me if you’re so suspicious.
TYRONE
    As if that could do any good! You’d only postpone it. And I’m not your jailor. This isn’t a prison.
MARY
    No. I know you can’t help thinking it’s a home.
    She adds quickly with a detached contrition.
    I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to be bitter. It’s not your fault.
    She turns and disappears through the back parlor. The three in the room remain silent. It is as if they were waiting until she got upstairs before speaking.
JAMIE
    Cynically brutal.
    Another shot in the arm!
EDMUND
    Angrily.
    Cut out that kind of talk!
TYRONE
    Yes! Hold your foul tongue and your rotten Broadway loafer’s lingo! Have you no pity or decency?
    Losing his temper.
    You ought to be kicked out in the gutter! But if I did it, you know damned well who’d weep and plead for you, and excuse you and complain till I let you come back.
JAMIE
    A spasm of pain crosses his face.
    Christ, don’t I know that? No pity? I have all the pity in the world for her. I understand what a hard game to beat she’s up against—which is more than you ever have! My lingo didn’t mean I had no feeling. I was merely putting bluntly what we all know, and have to live with now, again.
    Bitterly.
    The cures are no damned good except for a while.