Free Resurrection Blues by Arthur Miller

darling—how shall I put it?—he clearly had to have been here last night . . .
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    JEANINE: Why!
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    HENRI, patience gone: Well look at you! Felix is not stupid, Jeanine—he knows your spine was crushed, it could only have been this man’s hand on you that has brought you to life like this!
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    JEANINE: . . . You believe then!?
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    HENRI: . . . I don’t know what I believe! I only know that Felix intends to kill this man and that can’t be allowed to happen!
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    JEANINE: Oh Papa, why do you go on caring so much when you know you will never act! You’ll never stand up to these murderers!
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    HENRI: Act how! Who do I join! How can you go on repeating that political nonsense? There is no politics anymore,
    Jeanine—if you weren’t so tough-minded you’d admit it! There is nothing, my dear, nothing but one’s family, if one can call that a faith.
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    JEANINE: Late one night you came into my room and sat down on my bed. There was a storm. Tremendous! The wind broke limbs off the oak behind the house. It groaned, like pieces of the sky breaking off! And you said you had decided to go into the mountains and join the guerillas to fight against Felix! Lightning seemed to flash around your head, Papa. You were like a mountain, sitting there. At last you would do something, at last you would answer the idiots and fight against Felix! And I knew I would follow you . . . and high up in the mountains I found you in your tent with a rifle on your lap, reading Spinoza.
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    HENRI: The world will never again be changed by heroes; if I misled you I apologize to the depths of my heart. One must learn to live in the garden of one’s self.
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    JEANINE: Even if one has seen god?
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    HENRI: . . . Then you really do believe?
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    JEANINE: I think so, yes.
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    HENRI: Very well. I’m glad.
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    JEANINE: You are!
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    HENRI: I’m happy for the love I see in you, my dear, your hair flowing so gently around your face, and the softness that I haven’t seen in so many years in the corners of your eyes. I love you, Jeanine, and if it’s he who brought you back to life . . .—Why not? I think now it is no more impossible than the rest of this dream we live in. Glances at watch .—Felix will be here soon. I’ll wait with you, is that all right?
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    She suddenly weeps; he goes to his knees beside her.
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    HENRI, embracing her: Oh my darling, my darling . . . !
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    Enter Felix, with Emily—her hand tucked under his
arm. Henri springs up.
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    Felix! Miss Shapiro! Good morning! Miss Shapiro, this is my daughter, Jeanine.
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    FELIX, going to Jeanine in surprise: Why Jeanine, how wonderfully well you look! My god, this is amazing—what’s happened?
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    HENRI: Nothing. She often has more energy in the mornings.
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    FELIX: We must talk, Jeanine . . .
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    HENRI: She’s really not up to it, Felix.
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    FELIX: There’s a couple of things I’d like this man to understand. It’s important.
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    HENRI: But she has no contact with him.
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    FELIX: Well, if you happen to see him—
    HENRI, glancing from one to the other: —Something’s happened, hasn’t it . . . with you.
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    EMILY: Oh yes! We hardly slept all night.
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    HENRI: How nice!
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    EMILY: Yes . . . it was.
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    HENRI: Well! May one congratulate the old dog?
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    FELIX: Definitely!—he’s back hunting over hill and dale. This is the strangest twenty-four hours I’ve ever been through.— Drapes an arm around Emily . . . . She wanted to drive up and look around in the villages . . .
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    EMILY: It’s like walking on the sky up there—the purity of the sunbeams . . . that strangely warm, icy air . . .
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    FELIX: It’s been years since I was up there in our last campaigns. I was absolutely amazed—his picture really is everywhere in the villages. They paint halos around his head. I had