Page:Etta Block - One-act plays from the Yiddish (1923).pdf/55

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Mother and Son

The Doctor (comes forward and takes Moshele’s hand)
Calm yourself, Moshele.

Moshele Just think of it—how dreadful! She loves me—yearns for me, and I, wicked one that I am… (He runs up wildly to the portrait, wrenches it from the wall and kisses it fervently.) My good father! How I have misunderstood you! I am guilty of your death! You have died for love of me… Oh, unfortunate am I…

(He sinks into a chair and covers his face with his hands. The doctor replaces the portrait on the wall and paces to and fro. Gitele comes back, dressed for the street; she appears very agitated.)

Gitele (putting her arms protectively about Moshele)
Moshele, come let us go. After she has put you aside today, I owe her no further duty. Come, Moshele.

Moshele (rises unsteadily)
No. I will not go away from here now. I will go to her, fall at her feet. Let her crush me with them! Let her beat me, if only she does not put me away from her. If only she will give her mother love to me. (He takes Gitele by the hand and leads her to the door, right.) Come with me, Gitele, together we will plead with her. She will…

Gitele (holding back)
Moshele…

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