Infomotions, Inc.The Naturewoman / Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

Author: Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968
Title: The Naturewoman
Publisher: Project Gutenberg
Tag(s): oceana; masterson; ethel; letitia; freddy; aunt sophronia; henry; sunrise dance; dear
Contributor(s): Vizetelly, Ernest Alfred, 1853-1922 [Translator]
Versions: original; local mirror; HTML (this file); printable
Services: find in a library; evaluate using concordance
Rights: GNU General Public License
Size: 19,045 words (really short) Grade range: 5-7 (grade school) Readability score: 75 (easy)
Identifier: etext3301
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Title: The Naturewoman

Author: Upton Sinclair

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Oceana: the Naturewoman.
Mrs. Sophronia Masterson: of Beacon Street, Boston.
Quincy Masterson, M.D.: her husband.
Freddy Masterson: her son.
Ethel Masterson: her younger daughter.
Mrs. Letitia Selden: her elder daughter.
Henry Selden: Letitia's husband.
Remson: a butler.

                                ACT I
Drawing-room of the Masterson home; afternoon in winter.

                               ACT II
The same; the next afternoon.

                               ACT III
A portion of the parlor, as a stage; the same evening.

                               ACT IV
Henry Selden's camp in the White Mountains; afternoon, a week later.



[Scene shows a luxuriously furnished drawing-room. Double doors,
centre, opening to hall and stairway. Grand piano at right, fireplace
next to it, with large easy-chair in front. Centre table; windows
left, and chairs.]

[At rise: ETHEL standing by table; a beautiful but rather frail girl
of sixteen; opening a package containing photograph in frame.]

ETHEL. Oceana! Oceana! [She gazes at it in rapture.] Oh, I wonder if
she'll be as good as she is beautiful! She must be! Oceana! [To
REMSON, an old, white- haired family servant, who enters with flowers
in vase.] No message from my brother yet?

REMSON. Nothing, Miss Ethel.

ETHEL. Look at this, Remson.

REMSON. [Takes photograph.] Is that your cousin, Miss Ethel?

ETHEL. That's she. Isn't she lovely?

REMSON. Yes, miss. Is that the way they dress in those parts?

ETHEL. The natives don't even wear that much, Remson.

REMSON. It must be right warm there, I fancy.

ETHEL. Oh, yes . . . they never know what cold weather is.

REMSON. What is the name of it, Miss Ethel?

ETHEL. Maukuri - it's in the South Seas.

REMSON. It seems like I've heard of cannibals in those parts,

ETHEL, Yes, in some of the groups. But this is just one little island
by itself . . . nothing else for a hundred miles and more.

REMSON. And she's lived there all this time, Miss Ethel?

ETHEL. Fifteen years, Remson.

REMSON. And no folks at all there?

ETHEL. Not since her father died.

REMSON. [Shakes his head.] Humph! She'd ought to be glad to get home,
Miss Ethel.

ETHEL. She didn't seem to feel that way. [Takes book and seats herself
by fireplace.] But we'll try to make her change her mind. Just think
of it . . . she's been forty-six days on the steamer!

REMSON. Can it be possible, miss?

ETHEL. Wasn't that the street door just now, Remson?

REMSON. I thought so, Miss Ethel. [Moves to door.] Oh! Mrs. Masterson.

MRS. MASTERSON. [In doorway; a Boston Brahman, aged fifty, wearing
street costume, black.] Any news yet, Remson?

REMSON. None, madam.

MRS. MASTERSON. Master Frederick is at the dock?

REMSON. Yes, madam.

DR. MASTERSON. [Enters; slightly younger than his wife, a dapper
little man, bald and henpecked.] No news from the steamer, my dear?


REMSON. Anything further, madam?


[Exit REMSON.]

DR. MASTERSON. It'll be too bad if Oceana has to spend this evening on
the steamer.

MRS. MASTERSON. Have you taken to calling her by that ridiculous name

DR. MASTERSON. Surely she has a right to select her name!

MRS. MASTERSON. I was present when she was christened; and so were
you, Quincy. For ME she will remain Anna Talbot until the day she

DR. MASTERSON. Anna or Oceana . . . there's not much difference, it
seems. [Takes paper and sits by window; they do not see ETHEL.]
Weren't Letitia and Henry to be here?

MRS. MASTERSON. Letitia was . . . but she's never on time. There's the
bell now. [Looks at photograph.] Humph! So Ethel's had it framed! I
declare . . . people ought not to be shown a photograph like that . .
. it's not decent.

DR. MASTERSON. My dear! It's the South Sea Islands!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Severely.] This is Back Bay. Oh! Letitia!

LETITIA. [Enters; aged about twenty-eight, prim and decorous,
Patterned after her mother; black street costume, with furs.] No news
from the steamer, it seems! Dear me, such weather!

MRS. MASTERSON. You didn't walk, I hope?

LETITIA. No, but even getting into the stores! I'm exhausted.

DR. MASTERSON. [Looking from paper.] Henry coming?

LETITIA. He said he might drop in. He's curious to see the lady.

DR. MASTERSON. Humph! No doubt!

LETITIA. Mother, I wish you'd try to do something with Henry. He's so
restless and discontented . . . he's getting to be simply impossible.

MRS. MASTERSON. I'm going to talk to him to-day, my dear.

LETITIA. Fancy my going out and burying myself in the country! And he
means it . . . he's at me all the time about it!

MRS. MASTERSON. Well, don't go, my dear!

LETITIA. Don't worry yourself . . . I've not the least intention of
going. Such things as we modern women have to endure! Only fancy, he's
got an idea he wants to be where he can work with his hands!

MRS. MASTERSON. Henry ought to have discovered these yearnings before
he married one of the Mastersons. As my daughter, you have certain
social obligations to fill . . . your friends have a claim upon you,
quite as much as your husband.

LETITIA. He says he wants to take the bungalow and make it over . . .
wants to plan it and work at it himself. And with me and the children
sitting out on the mountain-top in the snow until he finishes, I

MRS. MASTERSON. Quincy, do you know anything about this whim of
Henry's for a day-laborer's life?

DR. MASTERSON. My dear, Henry's a big, active man, and he wants
something to do.

MRS. MASTERSON. But hasn't he his business?

DR. MASTERSON. I dare say there are things more thrilling to a man
than commercial law-cases. And Henry's been thinking for himself . . .
he says the law's a cheat.

MRS. MASTERSON. Yes, I know . . . I've heard all that. And here we
are, just at this critical moment, when the girl is coming, and when
he ought to be advising us about that will.

DR. MASTERSON. It seems to me, my dear, you've managed to choose your
course without his aid. [A pause.] I hope we shan't have to get into
any quarrel with Oceana.

MRS. MASTERSON. We shall not if _I_ can help it, Quincy.

LETITIA. We simply intend to be firm, father.

MRS. MASTERSON. We intend to make it clear that we are going to stand
by our legal rights. With no hard feelings for her personally . . .

ETHEL. [Rising from chair.] Mother!


ETHEL. Mother, this has gone just as far as it can go! I've felt all
along that something like this was preparing.

MRS. MASTERSON. My dear . . .

ETHEL. Mother, this concerns me as much as it concerns any one of you.
And I tell you, you have simply got to let me know about that will.

MRS. MASTERSON. My dear . . .

ETHEL. Do I understand that it is your intention to threaten to go to
law, unless Oceana gives us a part of grandfather's property?

MRS. MASTERSON. Ethel, I refuse . . .

DR. MASTERSON. You might as well tell the child, Sophronia. It's
perfectly certain, Ethel, that your grandfather was not of sound mind
when he made the will.

ETHEL. It's perfectly certain that he hated you and mother and Aunt
Letitia and me and Freddy . . . every one of us; and that he had hated
us for years and years; and that he left his money to Oceana to spite
us all.

MRS. MASTERSON. That's precisely it, Ethel . . .

ETHEL. And I, for one, knowing that he hated me, don't want his money.
And what is more, I refuse to touch his money.

DR. MASTERSON. Not being of age, my dear, you can't . . .

ETHEL. I am near enough of age to possess my self-respect. And I shall
refuse to touch one penny.

DR. MASTERSON. My child, there are a good many pennies in a half
million dollars.

MRS. MASTERSON. And when you are of age, Ethel, you'll appreciate . .

ETHEL. I shall be of age two years from now, and then I shall return
to Oceana every penny of grandfather's money that may have been gotten
for me.


MRS. MASTERSON. It seems to me this is a strange way for a young girl
to be speaking to her parents!

ETHEL. I can't help it, mother. I am meek and patient . . . I try to
let you have your way with me in everything. But this is a matter of
principle, and I can't let myself be sat on.

MRS. MASTERSON. Sat on! Is that your view of your mother's attitude
towards you?

ETHEL. You know, perfectly well, mother; that it's impossible for
anybody to preserve any individuality in contact with you . . . that
as a matter of fact, neither father nor Letitia nor Freddy nor myself
have preserved a shred of it. Grandfather said that to you himself,
the last time you ever saw him . . . I know it, for I've heard father
say it a hundred times.


MRS. MASTERSON. It seems to me there's more than a trace of
individuality in this present outburst, Ethel.

ETHEL. Yes, but it's the first time, mother.

LETITIA. Some one is coming. [Turns to door.] Oh! Henry!

HENRY. [Enters; a handsome, powerfully-built man; smooth shaven,
immaculate, reserved in manner.] Well, has the sea-witch arrived?


DR. MASTERSON. Freddy's gone to meet her with the limousine.

HENRY. I see. And the steamer?

MRS. MASTERSON. It was to have docked two hours ago.

HENRY. Well, that means that I won't see her till tomorrow evening.
I've got to run down to Providence to-night.

LETITIA. What's the matter?

HENRY. Nothing important . . . just a business matter that requires my
presence. Make my apologies; and goodbye, my dear.

[Kisses LETITIA.]

LETITIA. Henry, I wish you'd wait a moment.

HENRY. What for, my dear?

LETITIA. Mother has something to say . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. I want to talk to you about this idea of going to the
country in the winter-time.

HENRY. Oh! There's no use talking about that, Mrs. Masterson. I see I
can't have my way, so there's no more to be said. I'm not the sort of
man to sulk.

MRS. MASTERSON. But such an idea, Henry! For a delicate woman like
Letitia . . .

HENRY. I know . . . I know. I'd have taken care of her . . . but that
doesn't interest her. And, of course, I can't take the children away
from her, and there's not much fun in the country alone. So what's the
use? I give up . . . as I give up everything. Good-bye, all.


LETITIA. I declare - such a trial! A husband who's lost his interest
in life!

MRS. MASTERSON. It's that new cook of yours, Letitia.

LETITIA. Every cook is worse.

MRS. MASTERSON. What he needs is some liver-pills. Quincy, you should
attend to it! [Rises.] Well, I'm going upstairs. You'll stay to
dinner, Letitia?

LETITIA. Yes, I want to lie down for a while.

DR. MASTERSON. And I'll beat myself a game of billiards.


ETHEL. [Drops her book to floor, springs up and paces the room.] Oh!
If only I might change places with Oceana! If I could get away to some
South Sea island, and be my own mistress and live my own life. [Takes
photograph.] Oceana! I'm wild to see you! I want to see you dancing.
Your Sunrise Dance . . . and to your own music! [Begins to hum the
Sunrise Dance.] Oceana! Oceana!

[A step in the hall, she turns.]

FREDDY. [Enters briskly; a college boy, about twenty-one, overgrown,
narrow- chested, good-natured and slangy.] Ethel!

ETHEL. [Starts.] Freddy! Where's Oceana?

FREDDY. She won't get here till morning.

ETHEL. Oh, Freddy!

FREDDY. They can't dock the steamer to-night . . . there's some tangle
at the pier.

ETHEL. Did you go and see?

FREDDY. I telephoned about it. I didn't want to wait in this blizzard.

ETHEL. I'm so sorry!

FREDDY. Me, too. But there's no help for it.

ETHEL. So long as she doesn't miss to-morrow night! Did I read you
what she said about that, Freddy? [Takes letter from pocket.] "I'll
pray for fair weather, so that I may get there to see the beautiful
dancing. There is nothing in all the world that I love more . . . my
whole being seems to flow into the dance. I send you the music of my
Sunrise Dance, that father composed for me. You can learn it, and I'll
do it for you. I don't know, of course; but father used to think that
I was wonderful in it . . and he had known all the great dances in
Europe. It was the last thing I heard him play, before he went out in
the boat, and I saw him perish before my eyes." Don't you think that
she writes beautifully, Freddy?

FREDDY. Yes; it's surprising.

ETHEL, Oh, yes. Her father was an extraordinary man, Henry says . . .
a musician and a poet. They had books and everything, apparently.
You'd think she's been living in Europe.

FREDDY. I see.

ETHEL. Listen to this: [Reads.] "About my name . . . I forgot to
explain. You see, Anna sounds like England . . . or New England . . .
and I am not the least like those places. Father used to see me, as a
little tot, diving through the breakers, and floating out in the sea,
with the snow-white frigate- birds flashing by overhead; and he said I
was the very spirit of the island and the wild, lonely ocean. So he
called me Oceana, and that's the name I've always borne."

FREDDY. It just fits my idea of her.

ETHEL. She goes on: "You mustn't be surprised at what I am. You may
think it's dreadful . . . even wicked. But at least don't expect
anything like you've ever known before. Fifteen years with only cocoa-
palms and naked savages . . . the Boston varnish rubs off one. But I'm
going to try to behave. I expect to feel quite at home . . . I have
pictures of all of you, and a picture of the house . . . I even have
father's keys, to let myself in with!"

FREDDY. Can you play her music, Ethel?

ETHEL. Play it? I could play it in my sleep. [Opens piano.] The
Sunrise Dance! [She sits and plays.] Listen!

[She plunges into the ecstatic part of the music. FREDDY leans by the
piano, watching her; she plays, more and more enthralled. The door
opens softly.]

[OCEANA enters; a girl of twenty-two, superbly formed, dark-skinned, a
picture of glowing health. She is clad in a short skirt and a rough
sailor's reefer with cap to match; underneath this a knitted garment,
tight-fitting and soft - no corsets. She carries two extremely heavy
suitcases, and with no apparent effort. She sets these down and stands
listening to the music, completely absorbed in it. There is the
faintest suggestion of the Sunrise Dance in her attitude.

[OCEANA is trusting, and yet with power of reserve. Throughout the
action, however vehemently she speaks, she seldom really grows angry;
she does not take the game seriously enough. On the other hand her
enjoyment, however keen, never becomes boisterous. Her actions proceed
from a continual overflow of animal health. She is like a little
child, in that she cannot remain physically still for very long at a
time; she moves about the room like an animal in a cage. Her speech
proceeds from an overwhelming interest in the truth, regardless of all
personality. She never conceals anything, and she never represses

ETHEL. [Finishes the music, then turns, and leaps up.] Oceana!

FREDDY. [Turns.] Oceana!

OCEANA. Ethel! [Embraces her.] Oh, my dear! How glad I am to see you!

ETHEL. Oceana! But how did you get here?

OCEANA. I came on the steamer.

FREDDY. But it isn't docked

OCEANA. They took us to another dock.

ETHEL. [Holds her at arm's length.] Oh, how fine you are!

OCEANA. And you--you can play my father's music! I'm so glad!

ETHEL. You liked the way I played it?

OCEANA. I liked it! And so I know I shall like you! And I'm so happy
about it--I wanted to like you!

ETHEL. But how big you are!

OCEANA. [Laughing.] Oh, that's the clothes. I got them in Rio. They're
queer, I guess, but I only had a couple of hours. And this is Freddy!
[They shake hands.] It's so good to be here!

FREDDY. How did you get from the dock?

OCEANA. I walked.

ETHEL. Walked all the way?

OCEANA. Of course . . . I enjoyed it.

ETHEL. But in the storm!

OCEANA. I didn't mind that. It's all new to me, you see. My dear,
think of it . . . I've never seen snow before. I was fairly crazy.

[She pulls off the coat and throws it on one of the suitcases.]

ETHEL. I must tell mother. And Letitia! [Opens door arid calls.]
Mother! Letitia! Oceana's here!

FREDDY. [Stoops to pick up the suitcases.] Why . . .

OCEANA. What is it?

FREDDY. [He moves them against the wall with a great effort.] You
don't mean you CARRIED those!

OCEANA. Why, yes.

FREDDY. From the docks?

OCEANA. [Laughs.] Oh, dear me! I didn't mind that.

FREDDY. Well . . . I'll be blowed!

[He has fallen head over heels in love with her, and whenever he is in
her presence he follows her about with his eyes, like one bewitched.]

OCEANA. You aren't strong as you ought to be! You stay too much in the

ETHEL. Here's mother!

OCEANA. Aunt Sophronia!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Enters.] My dear Anna! [Kisses her upon the cheek.] I
am delighted to see you safe.

ETHEL. And Letitia!

OCEANA. Cousin Letitia!

LETITIA. [Enters.] My dear cousin! So glad you are here!

OCEANA. [Looking from one to the other, as they eye her critically.]
Oh, are you really glad to see me? You must be, you know . . . for
I've come so far. And you've no idea how homesick I've been.

MRS. MASTERSON. Homesick, my dear? For that wild place you left?

OCEANA. But Aunt Sophronia, that's my home! And it's God's own dream
of beauty!

MRS. MASTERSON. Yes, my dear . . . I dare say . . .

OCEANA. Ah, you've never been there, or you wouldn't feel that way!
Picture it as it is at this moment . . . the broad white beach . . .
the sun setting and the clouds aflame . . . the great green breakers
rolling in . . . the frigate- birds calling . . . the palm trees
rustling in the wind! And you don't have to wrap yourself up in
clothes . . . you don't have to shut yourself up in houses! You plunge
through the surf, you dance upon the beach . . . naked . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. [Aghast.] My dear girl!

OCEANA. Oh, oh! That's so! I beg your pardon!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Coldly.] It will take you, a little while to get used
to civilized ways . . .

OCEANA. Oh, no, no, no! I know about that . . . I know how it is.
Father told me about Boston.

MRS. MASTERSON. My dear . . .

OCEANA. Don't worry about me. I'm really going to try to behave myself
. . . in every way. I want to get the right sort of clothes, you know.
I couldn't get them on my trip . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. It's just as well, my dear. You'd best have us attend
to that. You will need mourning for quite a while, you understand.

OCEANA. Mourning!

MRS. MASTERSON. Yes . . . for your grandfather.

OCEANA. But, my dear Aunt Sophronia, I couldn't possibly wear
mourning! No, no! I couldn't do that!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Astonished.] Why not?

OCEANA. In the first place, I never mourn.

MRS. MASTERSON. But your own grandfather, my dear!

OCEANA. But I never knew him. Aunt Sophronia . . . I never saw him in
my life!

MRS. MASTERSON. Even so, my dear! Hasn't he left you all his fortune?

OCEANA. But am I supposed to mourn over that? Why, I'd naturally be
happy about that!

LETITIA. Oceana!

OCEANA. But surely . . wouldn't you be happy about it?

MRS. MASTERSON. My child, one is not supposed to set so much store by
mere money . . .

OCEANA. But Aunt Sophronia, money is power! And isn't anybody glad to
have power? What else did I come here for?

MRS. MASTERSON. I had hoped you had come home for some other things .
. . to see your relatives, for instance.

ETHEL. Here's father!

OCEANA. Uncle Quincy!

DR. MASTERSON. [Enters.] My dear girl! You have come! [Embraces her.]
Why, what a picture you are! A very storm from the tropics ! My dear

OCEANA. I'm so glad to get here.

DR. MASTERSON. Yes, indeed! I can believe it! And a strange experience
it must have been . . . your first plunge into civilization!

OCEANA. Yes, Uncle Quincy! It's been horrible!

DR. MASTERSON. Horrible, my dear? In what way?

OCEANA. It's been almost too much for me. Really . . . I could
understand how it might feel to be sick!

DR. MASTERSON. Why, what did you see?

OCEANA. Everything! It rushed over me, all at once! The people . . .
their dreadful faces! And such noises and odors and sights!

DR. MASTERSON. I hadn't realized . . .

OCEANA. And then the saloons! Rows and rows of them! It is ghastly!

LETITIA. My dear cousin, mother and I contribute regularly to a
temperance society.

OCEANA. But that hasn't helped, has it? I'm almost wild about such
things--they were the real reason I came home, you know.

MRS. MASTERSON. How do you mean?

OCEANA. They had got to my island! They are turning it into a hell!

DR. MASTERSON. In what way?

OCEANA. Why, it's a long story. I didn't write . . . it would have
taken too long. Two years ago there was a ship laid up . . . and the
crew found, quite by accident, that our island rock is all phosphate;
something very valuable . . . for fertilizer, it seems. So they bought
land from the natives, and now there's a company, and a trading-post,
and all that. And oh, my people are going all to pieces!

MRS. MASTERSON. The natives, you mean?

OCEANA. Yes . . . the people I have loved all my life. And I've tried
so hard . . . I've pleaded with them, I've wept and prayed with them!
But they're lost!

LETITIA. You mean rum?

OCEANA. I mean everything. Rum, and cocaine, and sugar, and canned
food, and clothes, and missionaries . . . all civilization! And worse
yet, Aunt Sophronia . . . ah, I can't bear to think of it!


OCEANA. You wouldn't let me tell you what. [In a low voice.] Imagine
my people, my beautiful people, with the soft, brown skins and the big
black eyes, and hair like the curtains of night. They are not savages,
you understand . . . they are gentle and kindly. They ride the rushing
breakers in their frail canoes, they fish and gather fruits in the
forests, they dream in the soft, warm sunshine . . . they are happy,
they are care-free, their whole life is a song. And they are trusting,
hospitable . . . the wonderful white strangers come, and they take
them into their homes, and open their hearts to them. And the
strangers go away and leave them a ghastly disease, that rages like a
fire in their palm-thatched cabins, that sweeps through their villages
like a tornado. And the women's hair falls out . . . they wither up .
. . they're old hags in a year or two. And the babies . . . I've
helped bring them into the world . . . and they had no lips . . .
their noses were gone! They were idiots . . . blind . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. [Wildly.] Anna Talbot! I must beg you to have a little

LETITIA. Why should we hear about these things, Oceana?

OCEANA. My dear, it comes from America. The ships came from here!
There was one of them I saw . . . "The Mary Jane, of Boston, Mass."

MRS. MASTERSON. No doubt, among such low men . . . men of vile life .
. . sailors . . .

OCEANA. No, Aunt Sophronia . . . you're mistaken! It's everywhere.
Isn't it, Uncle Quincy? You're a doctor . . . YOU must know!

DR. MASTERSON. Why, to tell the truth . . .

OCEANA. TELL the truth! Am I not right?

FREDDY. Of course you're right!


OCEANA. Ah! You know!

MRS. MASTERSON. This is outrageous!

OCEANA. You mean you don't teach your children about it? Why . . .

[She stares at them, perplexed.]

MRS. MASTERSON. You don't understand our ways, Anna . . .

OCEANA. No, no . . . I don't. I don't think I ever can. You'd let some
man come and make love to Ethel . . . and you'd never warn her?

ETHEL. They warned me to turn my toes out when I walked, and not to
eat fish with a knife.

MRS. MASTERSON. If this conversation is to go on, I insist that the
children shall leave the room.

OCEANA. Oh, I'm awfully sorry, Aunt Sophronia! Why, I didn't mean any
harm. It's all so real to me. [She gazes from one to the other, hoping
for some sign of a thaw.] Just think . . . these were the people that
I'd loved . . . that I'd grown up with all my life. I'd fished in
their canoes, I'd hunted with them and basked on the beach with them.
I'd watched the young men and girls dancing their love-dances in the
moonlit glades . . . [She pauses again.] Oughtn't I to talk about

DR. MASTERSON. My dear girl . . .

OCEANA. [Stares at them; a sudden idea occurs to her.] Perhaps I ought
to explain to you . . . you're no doubt wondering. I'm a virgin
myself, you know.

MRS. MASTERSON. [Starting up.] OH!

LETITIA. Oceana!

OCEANA. But weren't you thinking of that?

MRS. MASTERSON. Why, of course not!

OCEANA. But Aunt Sophronia! You know you were!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Sputters.] Oh! OH!

OCEANA. You were thinking to yourself, this girl's been playing around
on the beaches with savages . . . and what's been happening to her?

DR. MASTERSON. My dear niece, I'm afraid you'll have to take some
account of our civilized prejudices. We simply don't say everything
that we think.

OCEANA. [Springing up.] Oh, dear me! I'm so sorry ! I didn't mean to
make you unhappy! I was going to be so good. I was going to try to
conform to everything. Why, just think of it, Aunt Sophronia . . . in
Rio I actually bought a pair of corsets. And I tried to wear them. I .
. . Oceana! Around my waist! Think of it! [She looks for sympathy.] I
couldn't stand them . . . I climbed to the topmast and threw them to
the sharks. But now it seems that you all wear corsets on your minds
and souls. [A pause.] Never mind . . . let's talk about something
else. I'm getting restless. You see . . . I'm not used to being in a
room . . . it seems like a box to me . . . I can hardly breathe. The
air in here is dreadful . . . hadn't any of you noticed? [Silence.
Apparently nobody had.] Would you mind if I opened a window?

MRS. MASTERSON. It is storming outside, Anna.

OCEANA. Yes, but one can exercise and keep warm. just a minute . . .
please. [She flings up a window; a gale blows in.] Ah, feel that!

[MRS. MASTERSON, LETITIA and DR. MASTERSON draw away from the window.]

MRS. MASTERSON. This is simply outrageous!

LETITIA. It is beyond all words!

DR. MASTERSON. My dear, consider . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. I won't have that creature in my house a minute

DR. MASTERSON. My dear, be reasonable!


DR. MASTERSON. Consider what is at stake!

MRS. MASTERSON. But what hope have we to get anything out of such a

DR. MASTERSON. We have some hope, I'm sure. If we . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. Didn't you hear her say she'd come home for nothing
but the money?

DR. MASTERSON. Yes . . . but at least she's honest enough to say it,
Sophronia. And she's here as our guest . . . she wants to be friendly
. . . don't let it come to an open break with her!

LETITIA. But how can we HELP it, father?

DR. MASTERSON. It's just a matter of letting her talk. And what harm
will that do us?

MRS. MASTERSON. But we can't lock her up in the house. And can we
introduce her to our friends? Tomorrow night, for instance!

DR. MASTERSON. We must manage it somehow. When we've once had an
understanding with her, it won't take long to get the papers signed,
and after that we won't care. Control yourself, Sophronia, I implore
you! Don't let your prejudices ruin us!

ETHEL. [Steals to them, in agitation.] Mother, CAN'T you be good to
her? You don't understand her at all.

MRS. MASTERSON. [Coldly.] Thank you, Ethel . . .

ETHEL. [To FREDDY, who joins them.] Can't you say something to them,
Freddy? They treat her so badly.

FREDDY. They hate her, Ethel! They couldn't understand her.

[OCEANA takes deep breaths, expelling them in short, sharp puffs.]

LETITIA. What in the world are you doing?

OCEANA. That's one of the Yogi exercises. Haven't any of you studied
the Vedantas?

LETITIA. We are all Episcopalians here, Oceana.

OCEANA. Oh, I see!

[She takes a deep breath and then pounds her chest like a gorilla.]

MRS. MASTERSON. And pray, what is THAT?

OCEANA. I'm just getting some of the civilization out of my lungs.

[A furious gale blows.]

MRS. MASTERSON. Really, my dear, we shall have to leave the room.
We'll all catch our death of cold.

OCEANA. My dear Aunt Sophronia, nobody ever caught a cold from winter
air. Colds come from over-eating and bad ventilation. [She closes the
window.] However, there you are! [Eagerly.] Now, let's have something
beautiful - so that I can forget my blunders. Let's have some music.
Will you play for me, Cousin Letitia?

LETITIA. I don't play, my dear.

OCEANA. What? Why, father told me you played all the time!

LETITIA. That was before my marriage.

OCEANA. Oh, I see! [Laughs.] The music has accomplished its purpose!
[Stops, alarmed.] Oh! I've done it again! [Goes to LETITIA.] My dear
cousin, believe me, I meant no offense. I'm never personal. I was
simply formulating a principle of sociology!

MRS. MASTERSON. You have strange ways, my dear niece.

DR. MASTERSON. Are you always so direct, so ruthless?

OCEANA. That's the word, isn't it? That's what father taught me. Never
to think about personalities . . . to go after the truth! He used to
quote that saying of Nietzsche's: "To hunger after knowledge as the
lion for his food!"

MRS. MASTERSON. Oh, you read Nietzsche, do you? How could you get such

OCEANA. We had a government steamer from New Zealand three times a
year, you know. That brought our mail.

MRS. MASTERSON. And your father permitted you to read these improper

OCEANA. My father taught me to face the facts of my being. My father
was a fighter, you know.

MRS. MASTERSON. [Grimly.] Yes, I knew that.

OCEANA. Life had hurt him. Some day you must tell me about it . . .
what it was that happened to him here in Boston. He never would talk
about it, but I've often wondered. It must have been my mother. What
did she do to him before she died? [She pauses, expecting an answer.]
Was it that she was just conventional like you? [She pauses again.] It
must have been something dreadful . . . he felt so keenly about it. He
burned it into my very soul . . . his fear of civilization. And here I
am . . . right in the midst of it . . . I'm letting it get its claws
into me! I'm wearing its clothes . . . [She tears at them.] I'm
breathing its air! I don't believe I can stand it! [She paces the room
restlessly.] My soul is suffocating, as well as my body. I must have
something to remind me of the sky, and the open sea, and the great
spaces. I must go back again to my home, to my island! [Stretches out
her arms to them appealingly.] Ah, can't some of you understand about
it? Can't some of you take pity on me? It's so strange to me . . . so
different from everything I've been used to! Aunt Sophronia!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Takes a step reluctantly.] My dear!

ETHEL. [Springing forward.] No! No! They don't understand! They don't
really care.


OCEANA. But you! Ethel!

ETHEL. [Rushes and flings herself at OCEANA'S feet, clutching her
dress.] Take me with you! Take me away to your island!

OCEANA. [Turning to FREDDY.] And you . . . won't you be my friend?

FREDDY. [Goes to her.] I will! [She holds out her hand to him; he
hesitates, gazing at her awe-stricken.] May I . . . may I take your

OCEANA. Why certainly!

FREDDY. [With fervor.] Oceana!



SCENE: Same as Act I.

[At rise: DR. MASTERSON in easy-chair near the window; opens
newspaper, sighs, wipes glasses, prepares to read.]

MRS. MASTERSON. [Enters with LETITIA.] Well!

DR. MASTERSON. Home, are you?

MRS. MASTERSON. Yes! And such a day!

LETITIA. Shopping with Oceana!


MRS. MASTERSON. Imagine buying clothes for a woman who won't squeeze
her waist, and won't let her skirts touch the ground!

DR. MASTERSON. Why didn't you take her to the men's department?

LETITIA. Don't make a joke of it, father.

DR. MASTERSON. How did you make out?

MRS. MASTERSON. Well, we've got her so the police won't molest her.

LETITIA. We told Madame Clarice her trunks had been misplaced in the
steamer hold.

DR. MASTERSON. Ingenious!

MRS. MASTERSON. Yes! Only she spoiled it all by telling the truth!

DR. MASTERSON. Where is she now?

MRS. MASTERSON. She's walking . . . she says she must have exercise.

LETITIA. The air in the limousine is close, it seems,

DR. MASTERSON. You got something she could wear to-night?

MRS. MASTERSON. Oh, yes, that part's all right. If I could only have
selected the things she's going to SAY to-night!

[A pause.]

DR. MASTERSON. Well, and what are the signs?

MRS. MASTERSON. I don't know. I can't read her at all.

DR. MASTERSON. You haven't broached the subject yet?

MRS. MASTERSON. Not definitely. I've hinted at it. I said we were
worried about the future of Freddy and Ethel.

DR. MASTERSON. And what did she say to that?

MRS. MASTERSON. She said that she'd take care of them, if I'd let her.

DR. MASTERSON. Why . . . that's promising.

MRS. MASTERSON. So I thought . . . till I found she meant taking them
off to the South Seas!


MRS. MASTERSON. I thought I'd wait till to-night . . . after the
dancing. You see, she'll have met some company, and I thought she
might be feeling more . . . more genial.

DR. MASTERSON. I understand. A good idea.

LETITIA. Miss Pilkington ought to put her in a good mood.

MRS. MASTERSON. She's passionately fond of fancy dancing, it seems.
And Ethel's been writing her about to-night, so she's quite excited
about it.


LETITIA. People are wildly jealous of us because we got Miss
Pilkington to come here. Everybody's talking about it.

MRS. MASTERSON. You haven't heard any criticisms, I hope?

LETITIA. Nothing that amounts to anything.

MRS. MASTERSON. I wish I could feel comfortable about it. It seems so
very daring. It's been only seven months since the funeral. To be sure
. . . father and I hadn't spoken for ten years.

DR. MASTERSON. And everybody knows the entertainment is for charity.

LETITIA. And we've only asked the very best people.

DR. MASTERSON. And the date was arranged over a year ago.

LETITIA. And it isn't as if we were going to dance ourselves, mother.
And then they are "Biblical Dances," too.

MRS. MASTERSON. I know - I know. But then, the world is so quick to
gossip. They might say we were doing it because he left his fortune to
a girl in the Cannibal Islands!

DR. MASTERSON. Perhaps it's just as well the girl's to be here.

MRS. MASTERSON. Yes, if we can keep her within bounds. I shall be on
pins and needles till it's over.

LETITIA. Such a white elephant in one's home!

MRS. MASTERSON. And then the way Freddy and Ethel are behaving!

LETITIA. Freddy wanted to stay from college and Ethel from her music
lesson - both of them to go and sit around in the stores while Oceana
bought clothes!

DR. MASTERSON. Well, of all things!

MRS. MASTERSON. I hardly know Ethel any more!

LETITIA. And Freddy sits around and stares at her like a man out of
his wits!

MRS. MASTERSON. That'll be the next thing, I suppose . . . she'll run
off and marry him!

DR. MASTERSON. Well, mightn't that be a good way to solve the problem?
To keep the money in the family?


LETITIA. Besides--she mightn't marry him.


LETITIA. Why not, mother?

MRS. MASTERSON. I'm sure, my child, you have no reason for saying
anything like THAT.

LETITIA. I don't trust the minx!

[A pause.]

DR. MASTERSON. Has Henry got home?

LETITIA. He's probably there now.

MRS. MASTERSON. Is he coming here to dinner?

LETITIA. I'm not sure.

MRS. MASTERSON. You'd better take my advice and not let him.

LETITIA. Why not?

MRS. MASTERSON. Because, the first thing you know, we'll have Henry in
love with her, too.

LETITIA. [Horrified.] MOTHER!

MRS. MASTERSON. I mean it, my dear--quite seriously. What's the
meaning of all this discontent of Henry's? I know him well enough . .
. he's just the man to be taken in by the tricks of such a woman!
SHE'D give him plenty of outdoor exercise! SHE'D go live in the
country with him!

LETITIA. [Springing up.] Mother! How horrible!

MRS. MASTERSON. Forewarned is forearmed, Letitia. You listen to me,
and let Henry see just as little of Anna Talbot as you can. And when
he's with her, you be there, too.

LETITIA. [In great agitation.] I'll go home right now and see to him!


DR. MASTERSON. [Sighs.] Oh, dear! And I was waiting for Henry to play
billiards with!

MRS. MASTERSON. You might get Anna to play billiards with you. No
doubt she's an expert.

[Exit right.]

[DR. MASTERSON sighs, shakes his head, and resumes reading.]

OCEANA. [Enters, radiant, clad in an ermine cloak.] Well, Uncle

DR. MASTERSON. Oceana! Bless me! How gorgeous!

OCEANA. [Takes it off and throws it on the chair.] It's really too
warm for walking.

DR. MASTERSON. I should have thought, coming from a tropical climate .
. .

OCEANA. Ah, but my blood circulates, you see. [Sits opposite him.]
Uncle Quincy, I want to have a talk with you.

DR. MASTERSON. Yes, my dear?

OCEANA. Uncle Quincy, why do you let Aunt Sophronia and Letitia
frighten you the way they do?

DR. MASTERSON. My dear girl!

OCEANA. Take yesterday afternoon, for instance - what I said about
syphilis. You know I was right, and yet you didn't dare say so.

DR. MASTERSON. Really, Oceana . . .

OCEANA. You are an educated man - a man of science. You know what
modern ideas are. And yet you consent to be walked all over!

DR. MASTERSON. My dear . . .

OCEANA. Here are these women . . . they have leisure and opportunity .
. . they ought to be doing some good in the world. And yet they
haven't an idea except to act as other people think they ought to act!

DR. MASTERSON. Dear me! Dear me!

[Rises and begins to pace the room.]

OCEANA. Don't run away from me.

DR. MASTERSON. I'm not running away. But you are so disconcerting,
Oceana . . .

OCEANA. I know; but that's only because you know that what I say is
true, and you don't like to feel that anybody else knows it.

FREDDY. [Off.] Oceana!

OCEANA. Freddy!

FREDDY. [Enters.] Oh! Father's here!

OCEANA. Yes; we were having a chat.

FREDDY. [Hesitates.] Father, will you excuse me, please . . . I have
something very important to say to Oceana. I've been waiting for her.

DR. MASTERSON. Why . . . what . . .

FREDDY. Don't ask me, please. I must have a talk with her right away.
Please come, Oceana.

OCEANA. All right.

DR. MASTERSON. I was going to the billiard-room, anyway. Pray excuse

[Exit centre.]

OCEANA. [Smiles.] See him run! Well, Freddy, what is it?

FREDDY. [Intensely.] Oceana!

OCEANA. What's the matter?

FREDDY. You mustn't stay here!

OCEANA. Why not?

FREDDY. They'll ruin you, Oceana! They'll crush you, they'll spoil you
forever! You must go away!

OCEANA. Why, my dear boy, how can they hurt me?

FREDDY. They will, they will! I've been thinking about it all day! I
didn't go to college . . . I spent the whole day pacing the streets.

OCEANA. Why, Freddy!

FREDDY. And I want you to come away! Come away with me! I want you . .
. [Wildly.] . . . I want you to marry me!

OCEANA. [Aghast.] Why, Freddy!

FREDDY. Oh, I know it's a fool way . . . to blurt it out at you like
that. I thought up a hundred ways to say it to you. I had a fine
speech all by heart, but I can't remember a word of it. When I see you
I can't even think straight. I'm simply beside myself . . . I can't
rest, I can't sleep, I can't do anything. I used to laugh at such
ideas, but now I'm frightened at myself. Can't you understand me,
Oceana? Oceana . . . I love you!

OCEANA. [Whispers.] My poor boy!

FREDDY. I don't ask you to say yes . . . I just ask you to give me a
chance . . . a hope. If I thought I might win you, I'd do anything . .
. anything! I'd wait for you . . . I'd work for you . . . I'd worship
you! Oceana! [He stops.] May I . . . May I take your hand? [She does
not give it.] Ah, no! I have no right! Oceana, listen to me! I have
thought that I was in love before . . . but it was just childish, it
was nothing like this. This has been a revelation to me . . . it makes
all the world seem different to me. And just see how suddenly it's
come . . . why, yesterday I was a boy! Yesterday I thought some things
were interesting . . . and to-day I wonder how I could have cared
about them. Nothing seems the same to me. And it all happened at once,
it was like an explosion . . . the first instant I laid eyes on you I
knew that you were the one woman I could ever love. And I said to
myself, she will laugh at you.

[He hesitates.]

OCEANA. No, I won't laugh at you.

FREDDY. I tried to keep it to myself, but I couldn't . . . not if I
were to be hanged for it. I'm just . . . just torn out of myself. I'm
trembling with delight, and then I'm plunged into despair, and then I
stop to think and I'm terrified. For I don't know what I can do.
Everything in my life is gone -- I won't know how to live if you send
me away.

OCEANA. [Gravely.] Freddy, come sit down here. Be rational now.


[He sits watching her, in a kind of daze.]

OCEANA. In the first place, Freddy . . . you must understand, it isn't
the first time this has happened to me.

FREDDY. No, I suppose not.

OCEANA. The officers of the ships always used to fall in love with me.
There were three on this last steamer.


OCEANA. You say to marry you. But it's difficult for me to imagine
myself marrying any man, no matter how much I loved him. One has to
make so many promises, you know.

FREDDY. How do you mean?

OCEANA. You have to "love, honor and obey."

FREDDY. But, Oceana! That's a mere form.

OCEANA. No, no. It's written in the laws. All kinds of things . . .
people don't realize it.

FREDDY. But surely . . . if you love a man . . . a decent man . . .

OCEANA. No decent man ought to ask a woman to sign away her self-

FREDDY. [Bewildered.] But then . . . then . . . what would you do?

OCEANA. [Watches him, then laughs to herself.] Boston is such a funny


OCEANA. Let us leave marriage out now . . . let us talk of love.
Realize how much more serious it is to a woman than it is to a man. A
man meets a woman and he finds her beautiful, and his blood begins to
boil, and he says: "I adore you." And so she gives herself to him; and
then, the next morning, he goes off and forgets all about it.

FREDDY. No, no!

OCEANA. I don't say you, Freddy. But it's happened that way. The
woman, though . . . she doesn't forget. She carries a reminder. And
it's not only that she has the burden of the child . . . the anguish
of the birth . . . the task of suckling and rearing it. It's that she
has a miniature of the man with her all the rest of her days. She has
his soul there . . . blended with the thing she loves most of all in
the world. And so, don't you see how careful she has to be, how
desperately important the thing is to her? [She sits lost in thought.]
I have never been in love, Freddy, not the least little bit. I have
never felt that call in my blood. But some day I shall feel it; and
when I do, I shall take that man as if before a court of judgment. I
shall take him away with me. I shall ask myself not merely, "Is he
beautiful and strong of body?" but, "Is he beautiful and strong in
soul?" I would not ask that he be learned . . . he might not chance to
be a cultured man. But he would be a man of power, he would be a man
who could rule himself, he would be a soul without base alloy. And
when I had satisfied myself as to that, I would have found my mate. I
would say to him, "I wish you to be the father of my child." [She sits
again, brooding.] I would not exact pledges of him. I would say to
him, "I do not ask you to take care of me; I do not ask you to take
care of my child. You may go away when you wish . . . that rests with
you; but _I_ wish the child." [She pauses.] Do you see?

FREDDY. Yes, I see. [He gazes at her, frightened.] And you . . . you
do not feel that way about me?

OCEANA. Not the least little bit, Freddy.

FREDDY. And if I waited ever so long?

OCEANA. I do not believe that I should ever feel it, [She puts her
hand upon his arm.] My dear, dear boy! Learn to look at it as I do.
Face it like a man. It is one of those things that we cannot help . .
. that we do not even understand. It is the chemistry of sex; it is
Nature's voice speaking to us. It means no disgrace to you that I do
not love you . . . it means no inferiority, no defeat. It is the
signal that Nature gives us, that we wait for, and dare not disregard.
You dare not ask me to disregard it! [He is gazing into her eyes like
one entranced.] You must let me teach you . . . you must let me help
you. You must not let this mean misery and despair. Take hold of
yourself. Perhaps you and Ethel can go back with me to my island . . .
for I think that I am going. [He continues to gaze at her, speechless
with admiration. She presses his arm.] Now promise me.


OCEANA. That you will be a man.

[They gaze into each other's eyes.]

ETHEL. [Off.] Oceana!

OCEANA. Here is your sister. Let us not trouble her. [Aloud.] Ethel!

ETHEL. [Enters in street costume.] Oh, here you are! And your new

OCEANA. Do you like me?

ETHEL. No, they don't belong to you!

OCEANA. [Laughs.] Well, I shan't wear them long.

ETHEL. What are you going to do?

OCEANA. I'm going to design some for myself.

ETHEL. What kind?

OCEANA. I don't know yet. But it'll be something that will leave my
legs outside.

ETHEL. And did you get something beautiful for tonight?

OCEANA. I got something that will do.

ETHEL. Oceana, when am I to see the dance?

OCEANA. I told you, when I have my costume.

ETHEL. But when will that be?

OCEANA. When my trunks have come.

FREDDY. They came this afternoon.

OCEANA. Oh! Then we'll have it to-morrow morning! And I'll show you my
beautiful bridal-robe.

FREDDY. Bridal-robe?

OCEANA. Yes. Didn't I tell you? It was made for me by one of our
King's sons. His name was Paukopi . . . that means, in our language,
"Child of the Sea Foam." And he was in love with me.


OCEANA. He was very sad and went away by himself. But he was a man . .
. he did not go to pieces. [She looks at FREDDY.] He went into the
forest and spent his time hunting wild birds; and he gathered their
feathers and made them into this gorgeous robe . . . purple and gold
and green and scarlet. He brought it and laid it at my feet, and said
that it was my bridal-robe, that I must wear it at my feast.

ETHEL. Oh, how lovely!

FREDDY. [Rises and turns away in despair.] Oh!

ETHEL. Tell me a little about the Sunrise Dance.

OCEANA. It represents the worship of Nature. It portrays an awakening
from slumber . . . you know the soft part of the music at the
beginning . . .


OCEANA. Then gradually I rise to my feet and gaze towards the light.
There is the sun shining upon the waves of the sea, and upon the palm
branches. All life is awakening and singing for joy . . . and so the
music rises to an ecstasy.

ETHEL. And do you dance other things?

OCEANA. Oh, yes - lots of things.

ETHEL. Oh, Oceana! I'm just wild to see you!

OCEANA. And I'm wild to dance. I must have some vent pretty soon. You
see, at home I was out of doors all the time. I hunted and fished, I
swam and dived, I danced on the beach. And here . . . why, I walk down
the street, and I daren't even so much as sing out loud. I have to
remember that I'm a young lady, and have an ermine cloak on! Truly, I
don't see how you ever stand it!

ETHEL. We were brought up that way.

OCEANA. Yes; and that's why you're undeveloped and frail. But tell me,
don't you ever have an impulse to play? That beautiful snow out there
- don't you want to tumble round in it and pelt each other with

FREDDY. We did that when we were children.

OCEANA. Yes, that's the way. But I, you see . . . I'm a child still;
and I expect to be always.

ETHEL. And are you always happy, Oceana?

OCEANA. Always.

ETHEL. You never . . . you never even start to feel sad?

OCEANA. Why yes, now and then. But I don't permit such moods. You see,
I have the conviction that there is nothing beautiful or right about
sorrow - never, under any circumstances.

ETHEL. You mean you would not mourn, even if some one you loved were
to die?

OCEANA. I mean that I did not. [She pauses.] Yes, exactly . . . my
father. He had been my life's companion, and they brought him home
drowned; and yet I did not mourn.

ETHEL. Oceana!

OCEANA. I had trained myself . . . for just that. We had made
ourselves what you might call soul-exercises; little ceremonies to
remind ourselves of things we wished to hold by. The Sunrise Dance was
one of those. And then, on the last day of each month, at sunset, we
would sit and watch the shadows fade, and contemplate death. [She
pauses, gravely.] We would say to ourselves that we, too, were shadows
. . . rainbows in the sea-mist; that we held our life as a gift . . .
we carried it in our hands, ready to give it up when we heard the
call. [A pause.]

HENRY. [Opens door centre and enters. Sees OCEANA and halts.] Oh!

OCEANA. [Turns and sees him.] Why! Here's a man! [They gaze at each
other, transfixed.] Ethel! Who is he?

ETHEL. Why, this is Henry. Letitia's husband.

OCEANA. Oh! Letitia's husband! [With a sudden, frank gesture, putting
out her hand.] Henry!

HENRY. Oceana!

[As their hands meet, they stand looking into each other's faces.]

OCEANA. [Gripping his hand tightly.] You are strong! [Looks at his
hand.] And you do not smoke, either! Let me see your eyes.

HENRY. [Perplexed.] My eyes?

OCEANA. Your eyes. [Turns him toward the light; studies his eyes.]
They dosed you with quinine! Malaria, I suppose?

HENRY. Why . . . yes. But how can you tell?

OCEANA. I can tell many things. Let me see your tongue.

HENRY. [Bewildered.] My tongue?

OCEANA. Your tongue.

HENRY. But what for?

OCEANA. I can tell more about a man by looking at his tongue for a
minute than by listening to it for a week.

HENRY. But, Oceana -

OCEANA. I am in earnest.

HENRY. [Laughs.] Why . . . really . . .

OCEANA. Are you afraid?

HENRY. Good heavens, no!

OCEANA. Put it out. [He pats his tongue out and she examines it.] So!
A man with a red tongue! And in a civilized city!

HENRY. Oughtn't it to be red?

OCEANA. And he doesn't know what it ought to be! How delicious! [She
steps back from him.] And so you are Letitia's husband. Tell me, are
you happy with her?

HENRY. [Startled; stares at her intently.] No, no . . . you ought not
to ask me that.

OCEANA. Why not?

HENRY. [In a low voice.] Because you know.

OCEANA. Yes, that's true. [A pause; she changes the subject.] I have
heard my father speak of you often.

HENRY. He remembered me, did he? I was only twenty when he went away.

OCEANA. He said that he taught you to play single-stick.

HENRY. Ah yes, to be sure!

OCEANA. He taught me also.


OCEANA. It was our favorite game.

HENRY. It's a rather rough game for a woman.

OCEANA. I love it. We'll have a bout.

HENRY. I'm afraid . . . I don't think I could.

OCEANA. Why not?

HENRY. [Laughs.] I should find it a psychical impossibility to hit a

OCEANA. You might find it a physical impossibility in this case. [With
sudden excitement.] Why, my trunks have come! We could have a go
before dinner. Couldn't we, Freddy?

FREDDY. I suppose so.

OCEANA. Oh, it's just what I'm pining for! To get my blood stirring
again! And you, too . . . surely you must be chafing, out of patience!
[She stops abruptly.] Oh!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Enters left.] Henry!


MRS. MASTERSON. When did you get here?

HENRY. Just a minute ago.

MRS. MASTERSON. You've met Anna, I see.

OCEANA. Yes, Aunt Sophronia . . . we're getting along famously.

MRS. MASTERSON. Letitia's looking for you, Henry.

HENRY. Where is she?

MRS. MASTERSON. She went home to find you.

HENRY. Humph! I came here for her.

MRS. MASTERSON. She wants you at once.

HENRY. All right. Good-bye, Oceana.

OCEANA. Until later.

HENRY [exit centre with MRS. MASTERSON.]

OCEANA. So that is Henry! Tell me, Ethel, have they any children?

ETHEL. Yes . . . two.

OCEANA. How long have they been married?

ETHEL. Six years.

OCEANA. Six years! And is he really happy?

ETHEL. Why . . . you know Letitia.

OCEANA. Yes, but I don't know Henry.

ETHEL. [Laughs.] I guess he's so-so. Like most of us.

OCEANA. [Half to herself.] I'll find out for myself. ['Phone rings;
FREDDY rises.] What's that? It's the 'phone. [Rises.] I hadn't noticed
it before! How interesting!

ETHEL. That's so! You never saw one?

FREDDY. [At 'phone.] Hello! Yes, this is Mrs. Masterson's. This is her
son. Can't I take the message? Oh, from Miss Pilkington. Oh! Why,
that's too bad! Why no, of course not. Tell Miss Pilkington we're as
sorry as can be! No, I'll attend to it. Good-bye. [Turns.] Miss
Pilkington can't come!

ETHEL. What?

FREDDY. She's slipped in the snow and hurt her ankle.

ETHEL. Oh, Freddy!

OCEANA. What a shame!

[They stare at one another.]

ETHEL. Was that she at the 'phone?

FREDDY. No, her maid. She's laid up.

ETHEL. What in the world will we do?

FREDDY. It's too late to notify people.

ETHEL. How perfectly beastly!

FREDDY. I'll go tell mother.

OCEANA. No, wait!

FREDDY. What is it?

OCEANA. I've an idea.


OCEANA. Why not let ME take her place?

ETHEL. How do you mean?

OCEANA. Let me dance!


OCEANA. Why not? I'd love to do it.

ETHEL. Oceana! You'd do the Sunrise Dance?

OCEANA. Yes; and then if they liked it, I could do some others.

ETHEL. Oh, Oceana! How perfectly lovely! But . . . but I wonder if it
would be all right. I mean . . . it wouldn't shock them?

OCEANA. Why should it, my dear?

ETHEL. Is it what they'd call proper?

OCEANA. Why, of course, Ethel. How ridiculous! It isn't a sex-dance.
It's religious.

FREDDY. And the costume?

OCEANA. Oh, the costume is beautiful.

ETHEL. Then I'll ask mother.

[Starts to go.]

OCEANA. Wait. Will Henry be there?

ETHEL. Of course.

OCEANA. Are you sure?

ETHEL. Of course.

OCEANA. [Eagerly.] Why ask your mother at all? Why not just go ahead
and do it?

ETHEL. Oceana!

OCEANA. Why not? She'd only worry meantime. So let's just wait, and
I'll go ahead.

ETHEL. Oh, would you dare?

OCEANA. Why, of course! She needn't know until almost time. Is this
Miss Pilkington known here?

ETHEL. No, she's never been in Boston before.

FREDDY. Mother met her in London. She promised she'd do her famous
Biblical Dances for mother's pet foundling asylum.

OCEANA. Well, don't you see? Most of the people wouldn't know till it
was all over! And oh, Ethel, it would be such a lark! [ETHEL and
FREDDY gaze at each other dubiously.] Who was going to play for Miss
Pilkington ?

ETHEL. I was.

OCEANA. Well, then, you can play for me! You see, Ethel, I'm afraid to
tell your mother . . . she mightn't be willing. She wants to suppress
me, and oh, I just can't be suppressed! I must have something to do or
I'll jump out of my skin, Ethel. Truly, my dear, if this goes on much
longer, I'll go out and climb the telegraph pole in front of the
house! And if I can only make an impression with my dancing, then I
may choose that for my career. I've been thinking of it seriously . .
. it's one way,

that people might let me preach joy and health to them. If I can't do
that, I'll go off and turn into a suffragette, or join the Anarchists,
or something worse!

ETHEL. Freddy, what do you say?

FREDDY. I'll stand my share of the racket.

OCEANA. Oh, come on! I'm just wild for some kind of mischief! I could
dance like the grandmother of all the witches! Come, let's practice
some. Play for me, Ethel! Play! [Pushes her toward the piano; raises
her hands in triumph; whispers.] Henry!



[Front part of stage shows an ante-room, with folding doors opening to
rear part, which represents a portion of the Masterson parlor,
curtained off to form a stage for the dance. Entrances down stage
right and left. Up stage, at the left, are the curtains, which part in
the middle; they are held by a cord which is fastened by the wall.
OCEANA'S trunk stands near entrance, right. Also a couple of chairs.]

[At rise: FREDDY stands left, holding curtain cord. OCEANA lies up
centre, covered with the "Bridal-robe," asleep. Music of Sunrise Dance
begins softly. FREDDY draws back curtains, revealing part of audience,
left. He steals off. OCEANA gradually awakens, raises her head, lifts
herself to her knees, stretches out her hands in worship to the Sun-
god. Then slowly she rises, rapt in wonder. The robe falls back,
revealing a filmy costume, primitive, elemental, naive. She begins to
sway, and gradually glides into an ecstatic dance, which portrays the
joyful awakening of morning.]

MRS. MASTERSON. [Enters, left, in great agitation, stares at OCEANA,
wrings her hands, paces about, signals to her frantically.] Oh! Oh!

[Rushes left and releases curtains, which fall.]

OCEANA. [Turns in consternation.] Why! What . . . [Sees MRS.
MASTERSON.] Aunt Sophronia!

MRS. MASTERSON. How dare you! How dare you!

OCEANA. Why, what's the matter?

MRS. MASTERSON. You ask me? Oh, oh!

OCEANA. Aunt Sophronia, you stopped my dance!

MRS. MASTERSON. Hussy! Shameless wanton! You have disgraced me before
all the world!

OCEANA. [Stares at her, slowly comprehending.] Oh! I see! [Goes to her
with signs of distress.] Oh, Aunt Sophronia, I'm so sorry! I didn't
mean to displease you!

MRS. MASTERSON. Such a humiliation!

OCEANA. Aunt Sophronia, you must believe me . . . I had a reason!


OCEANA. A reason for doing it! I couldn't help it . . . believe me,
believe me!

MRS. MASTERSON. But what . . . what reason? What do you mean?

OCEANA. I can't tell you, Aunt Sophronia. But truly . . . if you knew,
you would understand. I simply had to do it.

MRS. MASTERSON. [Bewildered.] Is the girl mad?

OCEANA. Yes, I believe that is it! I am mad!

DR. MASTERSON. [Opens door and enters left.] Oceana !

MRS. MASTERSON. [Hurries to him.] Quincy! Don't come in here! It's not
decent! [Pushes him towards door; to OCEANA.] Put something on you,

OCEANA. Of course. [Puts on robe.]

MRS. MASTERSON. I can't comprehend you! Have you no sense of shame

OCEANA. I had a sense of shame.

MRS. MASTERSON. Naked! Almost naked! And in my home!

ETHEL. [Enters left.] Mother, what's the matter?

MRS. MASTERSON. Ethel! You knew of this outrageous plot . . .

OCEANA. One moment, Aunt Sophronia. The blame for this rests upon me
alone. I told Ethel that the dance was all right.

MRS. MASTERSON. Ethel, leave the room. This is no place for you.

ETHEL. Mother! The people are waiting . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. Go at once! [To DR. MASTERSON.] Quincy, go out and
make some apology to our guests. Explain to them that we had no idea .
. . we were imposed upon . . .

[Applause heard off left.]

OCEANA. Perhaps if your guests were consulted . . .

DR. MASTERSON. My dear Sophronia . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. [Pushes him off.] Go! Quickly! [Turns to OCEANA.] And
as for you, Anna Talbot, there is no more to be said. You have
overwhelmed me with shame.

OCEANA. Perhaps, Aunt Sophronia, you would prefer I should leave your

MRS. MASTERSON. [Stiffly.] I would make no objection.

OCEANA. I will go as soon as I dress.

MRS. MASTERSON. Very well. [Starts towards the door.] I will do what I
can to atone for your wantonness.

OCEANA. One moment, Aunt Sophronia.


OCEANA. Ethel tells me that you had something to say to me about
grandfather's will.

MRS. MASTERSON. Oh! Ethel told you, did she?

OCEANA. Yes . . . she wished you to know that she had told me. Of
course, feeling towards me as you do, you would hardly expect me to
give up any rights that I may have.

MRS. MASTERSON. We will be content with what rights the law allows us.

OCEANA. What I wished to say was that I would be willing to give Ethel
part of my inheritance.


OCEANA. I would not give it to Freddy, for he is a man, and I should
be breaking the mainspring of his life. But I will give half my money
to Ethel, provided that you will consent to let her go with me.

MRS. MASTERSON. Oh! So that is your idea! You have already weaned the
child from me . . . you have made her a traitor to me; and now you
wish to buy her altogether.

OCEANA. Aunt Sophronia!

MRS. MASTERSON. Your offer is declined. I have no more to say to you.

[She sweeps out.]

OCEANA. [Stands lost in thought; a smile grows upon her face.] Poor
Aunt Sophronia!

[Begins to hum, and to sway as in the Sunrise Dance. She completes the
dance from where she was interrupted, from an impulse of inner

FREDDY. [Steals in right; watches her, enraptured, as she stands with
arms outstretched in ecstasy. He rushes towards her and flings himself
at her feet, clasping her hand.] Oceana!

OCEANA. Freddy!

FREDDY. [Sobbing incoherently.] Oceana! I can't stand it!

OCEANA. Why . . . what's the matter?

FREDDY. I love you! I love you! I can't live without you! I can't give
you up . . . Oceana, have mercy on me!

OCEANA. [Gravely.] Freddy! This won't do! No . . . let go of me,
please! You must control yourself.

FREDDY. Don't send me away! How can you be so cruel to me?

OCEANA. But, Freddy, I have told you that I don't love you. [She
stands, thinking.] Give me my robe. Now, come sit down here, and
listen to me. I am going away, Freddy, and you won't see me any more.
And that is for the best . . . for you must get me out of your mind. I
don't love you, Freddy.

FREDDY. And you never would love me?

OCEANA. Never.

FREDDY. But why not . . . why not?

OCEANA. I can't tell you that.

FREDDY. Oh, you are pitiless to me!

OCEANA. One does not give love out of pity. That is a cowardly thing
to ask. [She pauses.] I must be frank with you, Freddy. You have got
to face the facts. When I give my love, it will be to a man; and you
are not a man.

FREDDY. But I am growing up!

OCEANA. No; you don't understand me. You should have grown up years
ago. You have been stunted. [She takes his hand.] Look! See the

FREDDY. Why. . .

OCEANA. Cigarettes! And you want to be a man!

FREDDY. Is that so unforgivable?

OCEANA. It is only one thing of many, my dear cousin.

FREDDY. Oceana, you don't know what men are!

OCEANA. Oh, don't I! My dear boy, there is nothing about men that I
don't know. I have read Krafft-Ebing and Havelock Ellis . . . I know
it all. I know it as a physician knows it. I can read a man's diseases
in his complexion . . . I can read his vices in his eyes. Don't you

FREDDY. [Drops his eyes.] I see!

OCEANA. Don't think that I am despising you, dear boy. I know the
world you have lived in.

FREDDY. But what can I do?

OCEANA. You can go away, and make a man of yourself. Go West, get out
into the open. Learn to ride and hunt . . . harden your muscles and
expand your chest. Until then you're not fit to be the father of any
woman's child!

FREDDY. Drop college, you mean?

OCEANA. Be your own college! The idea of trying to build a brain in a
body that's decaying! How could you stand it? Don't you ever feel that
you are boiling over . . . that you must have something upon which you
can wreak yourself? Don't you feel that you'd like to tame a horse, or
to sail a boat in a storm? Don't you ever read about adventures?

FREDDY. Yes, I read about them.

OCEANA. And don't you ever feel that you must experience them? That
you must face some kind of danger . . . do something that you can look
back on with pride? Why, see . . . six years ago there came to our
island three war-canoes full of savages . . . cannibals they were. If
father and I hadn't been there, they'd have wiped our people out. And
do you think I'd give up the memory of that struggle?

FREDDY. What happened?

OCEANA. Fortunately they came in the daytime, so we soon drove them
back to their boats. See . . . I'll show you. [She goes to trunk.]
Here's one of them.

[She lifts up a human skull.]

FREDDY. Good Lord!

OCEANA. Notice that crack. That was done with a spear . . . by my
prince, the one who made me this robe, you know. He cleaned the skull
out for me.

FREDDY. Rather a ghastly sort of souvenir.

OCEANA. Oh, I don't mind that. Father and I found it useful . . . a
sort of memento mori.

FREDDY. [Looking into trunk.] And what are those things?

OCEANA. They are some of my arrows. And these are what we used for
bowls . . . turtle-shells, you see.

FREDDY. [Pointing.] But those?

OCEANA. Oh, my single-sticks. [Lifts them.] That's the game Henry and
I were talking about. You ought to get him to teach it to you.

FREDDY. What's it like?

OCEANA. I'll show you. [She takes from the trunk two leather helmets
and gloves.] Here you are! It's an old English game . . . didn't you
ever read "Robin Hood"?

FREDDY. Oh, it's that? Why, they used to crack each other's heads!

OCEANA. The object was to draw first blood. But we used to wear these
helmets. You see how we've dented them up? And these old cudgels . . .
how they remind me of father!

FREDDY. Humph! They're heavy.

OCEANA. You take the stick this way; it's a kind of fencing. [She
gives him a stick and illustrates the play.] No, so!

MRS. MASTERSON. [Enters.] What's this? Is this the way you get ready
to leave?

OCEANA. [Imploring.] Oh, Aunt Sophronia, I beg your pardon! I got so
interested . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. Is there no limit to your indiscretion?

DR. MASTERSON. [Enters hurriedly.] Sophronia, I beg of you . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. I will hear no more of this! I have spoken, once for
all . . .

DR. MASTERSON. But, my dear . . .


DR. MASTERSON. But, Sophronia, the people don't understand why . . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. It was outrageous!

DR. MASTERSON. I know. But since it was begun . . . it's so difficult
to explain . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. No more of this! I won't hear it!

HENRY. [Enters; stares about.] Mrs. Masterson, what have you done

MRS. MASTERSON. There is no reason why you should concern yourself
with it.

HENRY. But I wish to know.

MRS. MASTERSON. What do you wish to know?

HENRY. Did you stop Oceana's dance?


HENRY. And why?

MRS. MASTERSON. Because I saw fit to.

HENRY. But your guests . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. I will attend to my guests.

HENRY. But what is Oceana going to do?

MRS. MASTERSON. She is going to leave our house.

HENRY. This is a shame. Most of the people enjoyed the dance. They
would like to see more . . .

MRS. MASTERSON. Henry, you will permit me to decide about what goes on
in my home.

HENRY. You may decide for yourself. But if Oceana leaves tonight, I
will leave also . . . and I will never return.

MRS. MASTERSON. Very well, Sir; as you please.

OCEANA. Henry, let me have a say. I am obliged to you, but I don't
want to stay. It's absurd for me to be here . . . I don't belong here.
I've lived all my life under the open sky; I've been free. I've swum
several miles every day and run several more; I've hunted and fished
and danced and played; and here they dress me up in long skirts and
sit me in a corner and tell me I'm a lady! I can stand it just so long
. . . I've stood it twenty-four hours, and I feel like a wild animal
in a cage. If I don't find something to do . . . something real . . .
something that is thrilling . . . truly, I'll murder some one. [She
paces the room; DR. and MRS. Masterson shrink away from her.] Yes, I
mean it! [With increasing vehemence.] Picture me at home. When I was
hungry, I went out for game; and unless I got the game, I stayed
hungry. Or I went fishing, and I had to get my canoe through the surf.
I had the zest of danger . . . I had real struggle. But here I have
nothing. They bring me my food on silver platters; they get up and
give me their seats, they even push the doors open in front of me! And
so I'm panting for something to do . . . for some opposition, some
competition, some conflict. I'm spoiling for a fight! You, Henry,
don't you know what I mean? A fight! [With a sharp, swift gesture.] I
want to meet some wild animal again! Is there a wild animal in you?
[They stare at each other; suddenly she springs and takes the other
single-stick from FREDDY.] Here! You know this game! My father taught
you! [She holds out one to him.] Come on!

HENRY. [Bewildered.] Oceana! This is not the place.

OCEANA. It's the place for me! Take it! [She forces it on him.] Now!
Forget that I'm a woman! Ready!

HENRY. Oceana! No!

OCEANA. Are you afraid of your mother-in-law?

HENRY. Good heavens!

OCEANA. If you're not, you're the only man in the family that isn't.
[She drops her robe.] Now!

MRS. MASTERSON. This is disgraceful!

DR. MASTERSON. Oceana, I beg of you . . .

OCEANA. Defend yourself! [She makes a feint at Henry's head, causing
him to raise his stick.] Lay on!

[She attacks him briskly. He defends himself. There is a swift rattle
of the sticks and a vivid conflict.]

HENRY. [Laughing.] Oceana, for God's sake, stop!

MRS. MASTERSON. Oh, stop them!

DR. MASTERSON. Are you mad?

FREDDY. Oceana!

OCEANA. [Wild with the excitement of the struggle.] Lay on! Ha, ha!
Well played! Guard! Once again! Ah, this is what I like! This is what
I've been looking for! [They leap here and there; the others dodge out
of the way, protesting; the conflict grows more and more strenuous.]

LETITIA. [Enters left; screams in terror.] Henry! [They stop; a long
pause.] Henry! What does this mean?

HENRY. My dear . . .

[Stops for lack of breath.]

OCEANA. Freddy, my robe.

[Wraps herself and sits in chair, smiling.]

LETITIA. What does this mean?

MRS. MASTERSON. Of all the shameless and insane procedures!

LETITIA. Are you mad, Henry?

OCEANA. No, no, Letitia. We know just what we're about. You see, your
husband and I are considering whether or not we shall fall in love
with each other.

LETITIA. [Wildly.] Oh!

MRS. MASTERSON. Monstrous!


LETITIA. How dare you?

OCEANA. He's interested, you know. I've got hold of him.

LETITIA. [Furiously.] Henry, you stand there and permit her to insult
me . . .

HENRY. My dear, believe me . . .

OCEANA. [Sharply.] Stop, Henry! [A pause.] Look at me!

HENRY. Well?

OCEANA. Don't tell her a lie. A lie is the thing I never pardon.

HENRY. Why . . . why . . .

[Falls silent.]


FREDDY. Gee whiz!

LETITIA. Henry, I demand that you come home with me instantly.

OCEANA. Don't go.

LETITIA. [Almost speechless.] If you stay here, you stay alone!

OCEANA. [Rises, casts aside her robe, stretches wide her arms.]
Letitia! Look at me! Am I the sort of woman that you can safely leave
your husband alone with?

LETITIA. [Stares at her terrified, then bursts into tears and flings
herself into HENRY'S arms.] Henry!

OCEANA. Ah, yes! That is safer!

HENRY. [Supports LETITIA.] My dear! My dear!

LETITIA. Come home with me!

OCEANA. God, man, how I pity you! Bound in chains to a woman like
that! And with all the world conspiring to hold you fast! How can you
bear it? Do you expect to bear it forever? What will become of your
soul? Oh, I pity you! I pity you!

LETITIA. [Hysterically.] Henry, take me home! Take me home at once!

HENRY. Yes, my dear, yes!

OCEANA. What is the spell they've laid upon you? You make me think of
Gulliver . . . a giant stretched out upon the ground, impotent, bound
fast with a million tiny threads! Wake up, man . . . wake up! You've
only one life to live. You act as if you had a thousand.

LETITIA. Mother!

MRS. MASTERSON. How long is this to continue?

LETITIA. Henry, won't you stop listening to her?

OCEANA. He's not listening to me, Letitia. He's listening to the voice
of the universe, calling to him. The voice of unborn generations,
clamoring, agonizing! What do you suppose it means, man . . . this
storm that has shaken us? It is Nature's trumpet-call . . . it is the
shout of discovery of the powers within us! For ages upon ages life
has been preparing it . . . and now suddenly we meet . . . the
barriers are shattered and flung down, the tides of being sweep us

MRS. MASTERSON. Oh! This is outrageous!

DR. MASTERSON. Oceana, Henry is married!

OCEANA. Married! Married! That is the sorcery with which you bind him!
No longer a man at all, but some aborted thing . . . a relic! An
eunuch! They mumble their incantations over you . . . the spell is
done, and you sink back, cowed and whimpering! You are a machine, a
domestic utensil! Never again are you to love and to dare to create
No, there are other things in life for you . . . bread and butter,
cooks and dinner parties, billiards and bridge-whist . . . that is
your portion! A married man!

LETITIA. [Terrified.] Henry! For God's sake!

[He no longer returns her embraces, but stares at Oceana, fascinated.]

OCEANA. Don't you see, man? It's a dream! A nightmare! Rouse yourself,
lift your head . . . and it's gone! Life is calling! Come away!

LETITIA. [Frantically.] Mother! Mother!

MRS. MASTERSON. Quincy, if you can't stop this outrage, I will! Call
the servants.

[She starts toward Oceana.]

OCEANA. Call the police! Call your guests! Anything . . . bring the
world down on him. Terrify him with conventions, beat him into
subjection again!


OCEANA. Wanton! Oh, how well you understand me! I, with my hunger for
righteousness . . . I, who have disciplined myself as an anchorite,
who have served as a priestess of life! And you, with your formulas
and your superstitions . . . you pass judgment upon me! [With terrific
energy.] See! This man and I, we are the gateway to the future! And
you seek to bar it! By what right do you stand in the path of
posterity . . . you tormentors of the ideal, you assassins of human

MRS. MASTERSON. [Almost striking her.] Oh! Oh! And my children have to
listen to this! [She whirls about.] Ethel! Freddy! Go out of the room!

ETHEL. I am going with Oceana.


ETHEL. Some day . . . if not now. She's perfectly right. Letitia has
no business to keep him. She never would have got him if she hadn't
played a part.

MRS. MASTERSON. Ethel Masterson!

LETITIA. Little vixen!

FREDDY. [Rushes to OCEANA and seizes her hand.] Oceana! Let me go with
you, too!

DR. MASTERSON. What next!

OCEANA. No, Freddy . . . no! [She withdraws her hand and holds it out
to Henry.] Henry! Come!

[A tense pause; all stare at Henry. He never takes his eyes from
Oceana. Slowly, like one hypnotized, he draws away from his wife's
embrace, and moves towards Oceana. He seizes her hand. All stand
transfixed. Silence.]



[The scene shows the living-room of a bungalow. Large stone fireplace
centre; windows and window seats on each side; French windows leading
to piazza right; piano between them; door left to another room; large
mirror beside it. Centre table, rustic chairs, deer-heads and skins,
Indian blankets, etc.]

[At rise: The stage is empty.]

OCEANA. [Laughs off.] Oh, say, but that was an adventure!

[Enters; glowing and exultant from a long mountain walk. She wears a
"Rosalind" costume, brown, with soft boots, gauntlet gloves and light
fur about the neck; carries a pair of snow-shoes, which she has taken
off and from which she knocks the snow.]

HENRY. [Follows.] You like the mountains!

OCEANA. Oh, my dear! They are marvellous! I've never imagined anything
like it . . . to be able to see so much of the world at once. It's the
way you think of heaven.

HENRY. You don't mind the cold?

OCEANA. I find I prefer it. I think I shall stay here forever. It
tunes you up so! It makes you quite drunk! [Looks at herself in the
mirror.] I look cute in this, don't I?

HENRY. You look like a fairy-story!

OCEANA. I ought to have had sense enough to think of a theatrical
costumer in the beginning. [Stretches her arms.] Oh, I feel so
wonderful! Ha, ha, ha! I don't know whether it's the mountain air . .
. or whether it's because I'm in love!

HENRY. [Seizes her hand.] Sweetheart!

OCEANA. [Stares at him.] How wonderful it is! Beyond all believing!
I'm stunned by it . . . afraid of it. Tell me, Hal, were you ever

HENRY. [Laughs.] Once or twice.

OCEANA. [Seriously.] I never was. But I've watched my people sometimes
and tried to understand it. And it's just that. Nature has made us

HENRY. And that is what frightens you?

OCEANA. She has her purposes, Hal; and I don't want to be her blind
victim. But then, I look at you again, and wonder leaps up in me . . .
love, such as I never conceived of before; power . . . vision without
end. I seem to be a hundred times myself! It is as if barriers were
broken down within me . . . I see into new vistas of life. I
understand . . . I exult! Oh, Hal, I shall never be the same again!

HENRY. Nor I; I look back at myself as I was a week ago, and I can't
believe it

OCEANA. With me it is like a great fountain inside. It surges up, and
I cannot be still! I want to laugh . . . to sing! I have to dance it
out of me! Do you know Anitra's Dance, Hal?

HENRY. Yes, of course.

OCEANA. [Begins to sing the music to herself and playfully to dance.
The enthusiasm of it takes hold of her, and she dances more quickly.]
Play it, Hal! Play!

[HENRY sits at piano and plays Anitra's Dance; she dances
tumultuously, ending in a whirlwind of excitement.] Oh!

[As Henry rises, she flies to him and he clasps her passionately.]

HENRY. Sweetheart!

OCEANA. [Panting.] Oh, Hal, I'm so happy! So happy! [She sobs upon his
shoulder, then looks at him through her tears.] Oh, if I only dared
let myself go!

HENRY. Why not, dearest?

OCEANA. It sweeps me off my feet! And I have to hold myself in.

HENRY. Why? Don't I love you?

OCEANA. Yes, I know. But I'm terrified at myself; I'm losing my self-
control. And I promised father.

HENRY. What?

OCEANA. That I would never do it. "Never feel an emotion," he would
say, "that you could not stop feeling if you wished to."

HENRY. But, sweetheart . . . why so much distrust? Why should we wait,
when everything in us cries out against it?

OCEANA. Don't say that to me now, Hal!

HENRY. But why not?

OCEANA. This is not the time for such a thought. You know it!

HENRY. Dearest . . .

OCEANA. [Passionately.] Ah, don't put it all on me! Don't make it too
hard for me!

HENRY. But if I only knew . . .

OCEANA. You will know before long. Ah, Hal, see how I'm situated. I've
broken all the laws. I've no precedent to help me . . . I have to work
it all out for myself. I shall have to bear the scorn of the world;
and oh, think if I had to bear the scorn of my own conscience! Don't
you see?

HENRY. Yes, I see. But . . .

OCEANA. I have chosen a certain course. I have forced myself to be
calm, to think it out in the cold light of reason, to decide what is
right for me to do. And now I must keep to my resolution. You would
not want our love to lead me into shame!


OCEANA. Do you read Nietzsche, Henry?

HENRY. He is a mere name to me.

OCEANA. I will give you some lines of Nietzsche's. "Canst thou give
thyself thy good and thine evil, and hang thy will above thee as thy
law? Canst thou be thine own judge, and avenger of thy law? Fearful is
it to be alone with the judge and the avenger of thy law. So is a
stone flung out into empty space and into the icy breath of

HENRY. That's all right . . . but if you expect Letitia to face this
problem in any such way, you will be sadly disappointed.

OCEANA. That's none of my affair. All I have to do is to give her a
chance. If she cannot face the facts, she has passed sentence upon

HENRY. [Laughs.] All right, my dear. It will certainly be a scene to

OCEANA. You think she will come?

HENRY. Oh, she'll certainly come.

OCEANA. And she won't bring her mother?

HENRY. I can't tell about that.

OCEANA. If she does, we'll simply have to send her down to the village
. . . I won't talk in Aunt Sophronia's presence.

HENRY. I was perfectly explicit on that point. [Takes paper from
table.] Here's the telegram: "Come to the bungalow immediately, upon a
matter of extreme urgency. Do not bring your mother."

OCEANA. Certainly that is clear enough.

HENRY. And bewildering enough. But I suppose they are prepared for
anything by now.

OCEANA. It's past the time. [Looking from window.] We should be able
to see a sleigh.

HENRY. No, the road turns behind that hillock there.

OCEANA. But look!

HENRY. What?

OCEANA. There's some one coming afoot.

HENRY. Where?

OCEANA. Round that side! By the path! Why, it's Ethel!

HENRY. Good Lord! Ethel!

OCEANA. She's come up from the village afoot.

HENRY. Well, of all the apparitions!

OCEANA. Run help her, Henry. She's running. [Opens window and calls.]
Ethel! [HENRY exit hurriedly.] Why, the poor, dear child! I wonder if
she came in Letitia's stead! But then . . . why wouldn't she get a
sleigh? [Calls.] Ethel! What's the matter?

HENRY. [Off.] She says Letitia is coming!


HENRY. She's just behind!

OCEANA. But, Ethel, what are you doing here?

ETHEL. [Off, breathless.] Wait!

OCEANA. Why, you poor child, you're exhausted. What in the world . . .

ETHEL. Wait.

[Enters, breathless, half carried by Henry.]

OCEANA. [Pounces upon her.] Ethel! Of all the surprises! You dear
thing! [Embraces her, shakes snow from her.] What in the world has

ETHEL. Oceana, I ran away!

OCEANA. You ran away?

ETHEL. To you! I couldn't stand it! I must be with you, Oceana--no
matter how wicked it is, I must be with you!

OCEANA. [Breathlessly.] Ethel!

ETHEL. Yes, I'm desperate . . . I'll die if I have to stay at home.

OCEANA. My dear, dear girl! [Clasps her.]

ETHEL. You won't send me back?

OCEANA. Never!

ETHEL. [Wildly.] But, Oceana, Letitia is coming!


ETHEL. I took a train from Boston. And when I saw her come aboard,
imagine how I felt! I hid . . . she didn't see me. And I got off the
train first and dodged out of sight. I ran all the way. I suppose she
stopped to get a sleigh.

HENRY. It's all right, Ethel . . . we knew she was coming.

ETHEL. You knew it?

OCEANA. Yes, Henry sent for her. You see, Letitia and I have to talk
things out.

ETHEL. Well, of all the . . .

[Stops, dazed.]

OCEANA. [Laughs.] That's all right, dear. We know what we're doing.
But it was good of you to try to save us!

HENRY. Listen!


HENRY. The sleigh-bells!

OCEANA. She's here!

ETHEL. [Clasping her.] Oceana!

OCEANA. What is it, dear?

ETHEL. Don't let her take me back home?

OCEANA. But how can she take you, dear, if you won't go?

ETHEL. She might persuade you.

OCEANA. Never fear, Ethel . . . we'll stand by you, won't we, Hal?


ETHEL. She'll threaten to make me go.

OCEANA. Her mind will be taken up with other things, Ethel.

ETHEL. But mother will come! And she'll command me to return. I'm not
of age, you know.

OCEANA. But then, if you won't obey? Will she send for the police?

ETHEL. No . . . hardly that.

OCEANA. All right, then, dear. I'll save you . . . trust me. I mean to
give you a chance for life.

ETHEL. And, oh, Oceana . . . what do you think? Freddy's run away,


HENRY. Where to?

ETHEL. He's gone out West!

OCEANA. You don't mean it!

HENRY. What for?

ETHEL. He says he's going to be a cowboy. He's going to make a man of
himself. He left a letter to father.

OCEANA. Why, the dear boy!

ETHEL. [Mysteriously.] Oceana, do you know what was the matter?

OCEANA. No . . . what?

ETHEL. I think I know. He was in love with you!

OCEANA. I shouldn't wonder, my dear. [Laughs.] But don't tell Henry .
. . he'll be jealous!

[Sound of sleigh-bells louder.]

ETHEL. Here she is!

OCEANA. You go into the next room now. It wouldn't be considered
proper for you to hear what we're going to say.

ETHEL. Of all the adventures!


OCEANA. [Smiles at Henry.] Now then!

HENRY. You wanted it, my dear!

[They turn, gazing right. The sleigh-bells have come nearer, then
stopped. Some one is heard to step upon the piazza and stamp the snow
from the feet.]

LETITIA. [Enters right, stares at Oceana and screams.] Oceana!

OCEANA. Letitia . . .

LETITIA. [Gasps for breath.] Henry! How dared you bring me here to
meet that woman?

OCEANA. Letitia . . .

LETITIA. Don't speak to me! Don't you dare to speak to me! [She sinks
down by table and bursts into tears.] Oh, how horrible! How horrible!
As if I had not humiliations enough already!

HENRY. [Taking step toward her.] Letitia . . .

OCEANA. [With a swift gesture.] Wait!

LETITIA. Oh, who would have thought it possible! To bring me 'way up
here . . .

OCEANA. You might as well understand at the outset . . . the thing
cannot be done that way.

LETITIA. [With concentrated hatred.] You dare!

OCEANA. We have sent for you . . .

LETITIA. WE have sent for you!

OCEANA. Because we wished to talk things out with you in a sensible
way. And you'll have to make up your mind to control yourself.

LETITIA. [Sobbing.] Henry, you permit this shameful humiliation!

OCEANA. Henry has nothing to do with this affair, Letitia. It is I who
have to talk to you.

LETITIA. [Bursts into hysterical weeping again.] Oh, that I should
have lived to see this!

OCEANA. You will find out before you get through that I mean to deal
with you fairly. But you cannot accomplish anything by hysterics.

LETITIA. Oh, oh, oh!

OCEANA. And you had best believe me; you injure your case by refusing
to act rationally.

LETITIA. [Looks up, frightened.] What do you want with me?

OCEANA. [Quietly.] In the first place, Letitia, I want to convey to
you the information that your husband's relationship and mine has so
far been what you would call innocent.


OCEANA. I was a virgin when I came to Boston, and I am a virgin still.

LETITIA, And you expect me to believe that?

OCEANA. My dear, I don't care in the least whether you believe it or

LETITIA. [Faintly.] But . . .

OCEANA. What reason would I have to fear you? He is mine, if I want

LETITIA. [Dazed.] Then what . . . why are you here? Why . . .

OCEANA. I came here because I wished to get acquainted with him. And
what chance have a man and woman to get acquainted with each other in
the conventional world?

LETITIA. [Stares at her; then, faintly.] But what . . .

OCEANA. I wished to try him out . . . in body, mind and soul. I wished
to know if he was the man for me.

LETITIA. [Rushes to Henry.] Oh! Have you no decency left? Have you no
mercy on me? What has come over you?

HENRY. Letitia . . .

OCEANA. Let me attend to this, Hal.


OCEANA. That a woman could be married to a man for six years and
continue to call him Henry, speaks volumes for the romance of their

LETITIA. [To Henry.] Where's your sense of shame?

OCEANA. You are taking the wrong line, Letitia. No such consideration
has a moment's weight with us.

LETITIA. [Catches her breath.] Since it seems that I am here at your
mercy, I ask to know your pleasure?

OCEANA. The reason that we have sent for you is that I might assure
myself upon two points . . . first, as to whether your husband still
loves you, and second, as to whether you still love him.

LETITIA. You doubt that I love him?

OCEANA. So far, Letitia, your actions have proceeded, not from love of
him, but from hatred of me.

LETITIA. Oh! And if I fail to measure up to your tests of love . . .

OCEANA. [Triumphantly.] Then he is mine!

LETITIA. And the fact that he is my husband . . .

OCEANA. Is nothing!

LETITIA. The fact that he vowed to keep faith with me . . .

OCEANA. Is nothing!

LETITIA. That I am dependent upon him for support . . .

OCEANA. You have money of your own, Letitia.

LETITIA. Do you suppose I am thinking about money! I mean his

OCEANA. A person who confesses to the need of protection has written
himself down an inferior. [A pause.] You see, Letitia, times have
changed; our ideas of marriage have charged. In the beginning a woman
was a man's economic dependent; now that the man has become ashamed of
that, he is made the woman's spiritual dependent. You play upon his
sense of chivalry, his sympathy, his pity; and you prey upon him, you
devour him alive. But the time has come when that must cease, Letitia
. . . man will not always be a domestic appendage! And you will simply
have to face this new situation. Do you still possess your husband's
love? Do you really love him? Nothing else will count . . . none of
your "rights" . . . we are not afraid of man or devil.

LETITIA. [Gasps.] Oh! [Turns to HENRY.] Henry, will you tell me what
all this means? Can it be that you assent to these outrageous ideas?

HENRY. I assent to them, Letitia. It may be that you still love me,
but you have given me few signs of it. You have been . . . you are . .
. a selfish woman.


HENRY. How often do you give a thought to me . . . to the needs of my
nature? You think of your whims and your prejudices; you think of your
social position . . . of your "world" and its conventions. You think
of what your mother approves, of what your father approves, of what
this person will say and what that person will say. And I follow you
about . . . I play my part in the hollow show that you call life; but
all the time my heart is crying out in me . . . I am starving . . .

LETITIA. [Startled.] Henry!

OCEANA. Ah! She is beginning to see it!

LETITIA. [Stretches out her arms and totters towards him, weeping.]
Henry! I love you! [Wildly.] Believe me! Believe me! I love you! Don't
you remember when you were ill three years ago . . . how I nursed you
and watched over you? You knew that I loved you then. Why, you said
I'd worn myself to a shadow! You kissed me, and told me I'd saved your
life! And when I was ill myself, and you thought I was dying . . .
didn't you realize that you loved me? And the children? Have you never
given a thought to them? Are they nothing to you? And you to them? You
know that you love them, Henry . . . you dare not deny it. Are they to
be without a father all their lives? [Falls into his arms.] My

HENRY. [Catches her, deeply moved.] Letitia!

OCEANA. [Has been watching them intently; now, startled and pained.]
Ah I thought so! [She turns away; supports herself by the table;
whispers.] That settles it!

LETITIA. Henry, if I have been selfish, I am sorry! I humble myself
before you . . . I beg you for forgiveness! Henry, I do love you!
Don't you believe me?

HENRY. [Faintly.] I believe you.

OCEANA. [Clenches her hands and turns resolutely.] You see, Hal, I
knew it! [He bows his head.] You can't get away from her. [She
pauses.] You understand it all now . . . what my instinct told me. You
still love her, you still belong to her. You would have gone away with
me, and you would still have been thinking about her--worrying about
her. It would have been tearing your soul in half. [She waits; he does
not look at her; she goes on, half to convince herself.] She is not
big enough to give you up. She could not say, "Oceana is young and
needs you; you love Oceana, and she will make you happy. Go with her."
No, she would think of the world and its conventions . . . she would
be jealous and bitter. She would eat her heart out . . . she would
tear herself to pieces! And that would tear you to pieces . . . you
could never forget it. And there are the children, Hal. It's true that
you love them; you think about them all the time . . . I know, for you
speak of them. And she could take them away from you, legally . . .
how much chance would they ever have in life, if she and her mother
had the bringing up of them? Don't you see, Hal? What can we do?

LETITIA. [Clinging to Henry's bosom.] Henry, I love you!

OCEANA. I want to play the game generously, Letitia; but it is all I
can do not to despise you . . . because he loves you, and it has meant
so little to you, you have done so little in return. That is the curse
of this thing you call marriage. You say to yourself that you've got
him . . . the law and the conventions will keep him for you . . . and
so you can treat him as you please. You'll take him off with you now,
and you'll set to work to get right back where you were before . . .
yes, she will, Hal. She'll try to wheedle you into backing down from
this position. She will weep and she will scold. But you stand firm .
. . stand firm! What we did was right . . . it was noble and true, and
if more married people did such things, it would be better for them.

LETITIA. [Clinging to Henry.] Henry, come home with me!

HENRY. All right, I'll come.

[He does not lift his head.]

OCEANA. Look at me. It's all right, Hal . . . it's all right.

[She speaks with intensity; they gaze into each other's eyes.]

HENRY. [Stretches out his hand to her.] Oeeana . . . I'm sorry . . .

OCEANA. [With sudden emotion.] No, Hal! Go . . . go quickly! Please!

[He goes out, right, with Letitia; Oceana stands gazing straight
ahead. Sound of sleigh-bells heard. Suddenly she sinks into a chair,
bows her head upon the table, and bursts into tears.]

ETHEL. [Opens door, left, and stands gazing at Oceana in alarm, then
runs to her and sinks upon her knees before her.] Oceana!

OCEANA. [Sobbing.] He's gone! Gone!

ETHEL. He left you?

OCEANA. I gave him up! I sent him away. Oh, Ethel, Ethel . . . what am
I going to do?

ETHEL. Oceana!

OCEANA. Oh, how I loved him! I didn't realize how I loved him! The
whole face of the world was changed . . . and now, now . . . how shall
I bear it? [She stares ahead of her.] Oh, Ethel, tell me I did right
to give him up.

ETHEL. Why did you do it?

OCEANA. I saw he loved her, and I had to give him up. It would have
been to tear his soul in half! But now that he's gone, I don't see how
I can bear it! [A pause; she is lost in thought; she whispers with
great intensity.] There is a vision . . . it haunts me . . . it cries
out in me in a voice of agony!

ETHEL. What?

OCEANA. A little child! You have no idea . . . how real it was to me!
It fell out of the skies upon me! The thought never left me. I heard
its voice . . . its laughter; I saw its smile. It called to me all
day, and it played with me in my dreams; I felt its little hands upon
me . . . its lips upon my breast. And it's gone!

ETHEL. Your child!

OCEANA. And his! And think . . . think of the awfulness of it . . . it
was hovering at the gates of life! It wanted to be! And I trembled . .
. I suffered; at any moment I might have said the word, and it would
have come. But I did not say the word . . . and it is gone. And now it
will never come! Never . . . never! I have murdered the child! My

ETHEL. No, no, Oceana!

OCEANA. God! I can't understand it! What does it mean? Did it exist
when I thought of it? Does it exist now? Who can tell me?

ETHEL. I don't know, Oceana.

OCEANA. The strangeness of it! Sometimes my whole being rises up in
revolt . . . I could tear the skies apart, to wrest the secret from
them! You see, we don't know anything. We don't know what's right, we
don't know what's wrong. We're in a trap! [She rises suddenly.] No,
no, I mustn't talk that way. I've lost my self-control. I let myself
go, and I had no right to. Now, what shall I do? Wait, dear . . . let
me think, let me think calmly. [Stares about her.] I want to remember
what father said to me; what I promised to do. See, Ethel . . . the
sun is setting. Look at the sky! And it's the last day of the month,
isn't it?


OCEANA. If father had been here we should have sat us down to one of
our services! Look here. [She goes to trunk, and takes out a human
skull.] Ah, old friend!

ETHEL. [Shocked.] Oceana!

OCEANA. He came from the Marquesas, I think. And here's where he was
hit with the spear. You see? Sit down. [She places the skull before
her.] See, Ethel-- he used to smile. And now and then he had the
toothache . . . see that? He took himself very seriously; he was all
wrapped up in the things that went on in this little cracked skull.
But he lacked imagination. He never foresaw that somebody would carry
him off to the New Hampshire mountains, and make him the text for a
Hamlet soliloquy. Alas, poor Yorick! He did not know that he was
immortal, you see; that life proceeded from him . . . unrolling itself
for generation after generation without end; that all that he did
would be perpetuated . . . that where he sinned we would suffer, and
where he fought we would be strong. He did not know that he was the
creator, the mystic fountain of an unexplored stream . . . the maker
of an endless future . . . [She stops; a spasm of pain crosses her
face.] Oh, Ethel! [Clasps her hand.] It is terrible to die young, is
it not?


OCEANA. Then how much worse is it to die before you are born! To be
strangled in the idea . . . to be stifled by a cowardly thought!

ETHEL. What do you mean?

OCEANA. Oh, Ethel, stay by me, will you? Promise me you will stay by

ETHEL. I will!

OCEANA. I'm frightened, Ethel . . . frightened at myself. I've done
wrong . . . I've committed a crime! I ought not to have let him go! I
ought not to have let him go!

ETHEL. Henry?

OCEANA. No, we mustn't speak of him again. I can't bear to hear his
name. I have failed . . . I have failed. I've been crushed by
civilization ! [Starts up.] But there's my island! There's the white
beach, shining in the moonlight, and the great breakers rolling in,
and the palm trees rustling in the wind. Let us go together . . . to
my island! Let us go back and get healed, before we try to face this
world again!


End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Naturewoman, by Upton Sinclair


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