don’t pretend that it’s been all jolly on our side—but this business—what’s the good of it, boy? ’Tisn’t going to solve a bloody thing! And they can’t win, you know. Why don’t the fellows like you
do
something …
talk
to them? (
They gaze at one another—the European with almost plaintive urgency; the African without expression. At last
RICE
turns—a man perplexed and embarrassed, who desires, like all of us, sympathy
) There—you see, Mr. Morris: the response to reason. And it will be no different with Kumalo. It may surprise you, sir, but I do not enjoy my present role. I am not by temperament an adventuroussort. Or a harsh one. I have become a military man only because the times demand it. (
A curious, urgent and almost sad defensiveness
) This is my country, you see. I came here when I was a boy. I worked hard. I married here. I have two lovely daughters and, if I may presume an immodesty, a most charming and devoted wife. At some other time I should have liked to have had you out to our farm. This is our
home
, Mr. Morris. Men like myself had the ambition, the energy and the ability to come here and make this country into something … (
He turns ever so slightly from time to time to catch
TSHEMBE
’s expression
)
They
had it for centuries and did nothing with it. It isn’t a question of empire, you see. It is our home: the right to bring up our children with culture and grace, a bit of music after dinner and a glass of decent wine; the right to watch the sun go down over our beautiful hills—(
Looking off with a surge of appreciation
) And they
are
beautiful hills, aren’t they? We wish the blacks no ill. But—(
Simply, matter-of-factly, a man confirmed
)—it is our home, Mr. Morris. (
A beat. He looks up, a little embarrassed
) I should be grateful if, whatever other impression you may have received, you would try to remember that when you write of this place.
MADAME Marta, I must go to bed. (
Pointedly
) Do you know, in some ways I think I am quite glad to be going blind? The less one sees of this world, I am convinced, the better …
( RICE
shoots
MADAME
a look
. MARTA
rises to assist her
)
RICE (
To
TSHEMBE ) There is an eight-thirty curfew for all natives. (
He looks at his watch
) It is now eight-fourteen. (
To all, crisply
) Good night.
(
He exits
. CHARLIE
stands looking after him
)
MARTA (
Her arm about
MADAME ) Good night, Mr. Morris. Good night, Tshembe.
CHARLIE Good night, Doctor.
MADAME (
Pausing before
TSHEMBE ) You must come back and tell me all about your travels, Tshembe. I am so pleased that you got to see my mountains. I should have loved to have seen them again … Ah yes … (
She reaches out to touch him, but instead balls up herfist as if to compress all the emotion that is in her and lightly touches his chest
.) Good night, child.
(
They exit
. CHARLIE
and
TSHEMBE
regard each other across the veranda
)
CHARLIE Well, Mr.—
TSHEMBE (
Turning, crisply
) Matoseh.
CHARLIE (
Hand extended
) Morris. (
They shake. It is cursory, abrupt; the pace set by the African’s disinterest
) How’s about a drink? I know where they keep the liquor and it’s pretty decent stuff. Even without ice.
TSHEMBE (
As if stirring from a preoccupation
) Thank you, no. In fact, I will say good night also.
CHARLIE (
Swiftly, to stop him
) I think I know everything you were feeling when that ugly scene was happening, Mr. Matoseh.
TSHEMBE (
Halting, with restrained hostility
) Do you?
CHARLIE Yes. I felt very sorry for
both
you men, you and Rice, then. It’s a particular kind of vantage point given to an outsider.
TSHEMBE (
Crisply
) Yes, it was precisely the “vantage point” I had in your country.
CHARLIE (
Getting it and smiling easily
) I’m sure. How about that drink?
TSHEMBE I think you heard. There is a curfew here for—“natives.”
CHARLIE I don’t think either one of us cares one hell of a lot about that curfew. (
Pointing to the veranda roof and
do
something …
talk
to them? (
They gaze at one another—the European with almost plaintive urgency; the African without expression. At last
RICE
turns—a man perplexed and embarrassed, who desires, like all of us, sympathy
) There—you see, Mr. Morris: the response to reason. And it will be no different with Kumalo. It may surprise you, sir, but I do not enjoy my present role. I am not by temperament an adventuroussort. Or a harsh one. I have become a military man only because the times demand it. (
A curious, urgent and almost sad defensiveness
) This is my country, you see. I came here when I was a boy. I worked hard. I married here. I have two lovely daughters and, if I may presume an immodesty, a most charming and devoted wife. At some other time I should have liked to have had you out to our farm. This is our
home
, Mr. Morris. Men like myself had the ambition, the energy and the ability to come here and make this country into something … (
He turns ever so slightly from time to time to catch
TSHEMBE
’s expression
)
They
had it for centuries and did nothing with it. It isn’t a question of empire, you see. It is our home: the right to bring up our children with culture and grace, a bit of music after dinner and a glass of decent wine; the right to watch the sun go down over our beautiful hills—(
Looking off with a surge of appreciation
) And they
are
beautiful hills, aren’t they? We wish the blacks no ill. But—(
Simply, matter-of-factly, a man confirmed
)—it is our home, Mr. Morris. (
A beat. He looks up, a little embarrassed
) I should be grateful if, whatever other impression you may have received, you would try to remember that when you write of this place.
MADAME Marta, I must go to bed. (
Pointedly
) Do you know, in some ways I think I am quite glad to be going blind? The less one sees of this world, I am convinced, the better …
( RICE
shoots
MADAME
a look
. MARTA
rises to assist her
)
RICE (
To
TSHEMBE ) There is an eight-thirty curfew for all natives. (
He looks at his watch
) It is now eight-fourteen. (
To all, crisply
) Good night.
(
He exits
. CHARLIE
stands looking after him
)
MARTA (
Her arm about
MADAME ) Good night, Mr. Morris. Good night, Tshembe.
CHARLIE Good night, Doctor.
MADAME (
Pausing before
TSHEMBE ) You must come back and tell me all about your travels, Tshembe. I am so pleased that you got to see my mountains. I should have loved to have seen them again … Ah yes … (
She reaches out to touch him, but instead balls up herfist as if to compress all the emotion that is in her and lightly touches his chest
.) Good night, child.
(
They exit
. CHARLIE
and
TSHEMBE
regard each other across the veranda
)
CHARLIE Well, Mr.—
TSHEMBE (
Turning, crisply
) Matoseh.
CHARLIE (
Hand extended
) Morris. (
They shake. It is cursory, abrupt; the pace set by the African’s disinterest
) How’s about a drink? I know where they keep the liquor and it’s pretty decent stuff. Even without ice.
TSHEMBE (
As if stirring from a preoccupation
) Thank you, no. In fact, I will say good night also.
CHARLIE (
Swiftly, to stop him
) I think I know everything you were feeling when that ugly scene was happening, Mr. Matoseh.
TSHEMBE (
Halting, with restrained hostility
) Do you?
CHARLIE Yes. I felt very sorry for
both
you men, you and Rice, then. It’s a particular kind of vantage point given to an outsider.
TSHEMBE (
Crisply
) Yes, it was precisely the “vantage point” I had in your country.
CHARLIE (
Getting it and smiling easily
) I’m sure. How about that drink?
TSHEMBE I think you heard. There is a curfew here for—“natives.”
CHARLIE I don’t think either one of us cares one hell of a lot about that curfew. (
Pointing to the veranda roof and
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