The First Scene

THE BIRTH OF MAN AND THE MOTHER'S TRAVAIL

Profound darkness; not a stir. Like a swarm of mice in hiding, the gray silhouettes of Old Women in strange headgear are dimly discerned; also vaguely the outline of a large, lofty room. The Old Women carry on a conversation in low, mocking voices.

OLD WOMEN'S CONVERSATIONS

--I wonder whether it'll be a boy or a girl.

--What difference does it make to you?

--I like boys.

--I like girls. They always sit at home waiting till you call on them.

--Do you like to go visiting?

[The Old Women titter.

--He knows.

--He knows. (Silence)

--Our friend would like to have a girl. She says boys are so restless and venturesome and are always seeking danger. Even when they are little, they like to climb tall trees and bathe in deep water. They often fall, and they drown. And when they get to be men, they make wars and kill one another.

--She thinks girls don't drown. I have seen many girls drowned. They look like all drowned people, wet and green.

--She thinks girls don't get killed by stones thrown at them.

--Poor woman, she has such a hard time giving birth to her child. We have been sitting here sixteen hours, and she is still crying. At first she cried out loud. Her screams pierced our ears. Then she cried more quietly, and now she is only moaning.

--The doctor says she'll die.

--No, the doctor says the child will die and she will live.

--Why do they bear children? It is so painful.

--And why do they die? It is still more painful.

[The Old Women laugh suppressedly.

--Yes, they bear children and die.

--And bear children again.

[They laugh. A subdued cry of the suffering woman is heard.

--Beginning again.

--She's recovered her voice. That's good.

--That's good.

--Poor husband. He's lost his head completely. You ought to see him. He's a sight. At first he was glad his wife was pregnant and said he wanted a boy. He thinks his son will be a cabinet minister or a general. Now he doesn't want anything, neither a boy nor a girl. He just goes about grieving and crying.

--Every time she is seized with pain he begins to labor, too, and gets red in the face.

--He was sent to the chemist's shop for medicine, and he hung about there for two hours without being able to remember what he was sent for. He returned without it.

[The Old Women titter. The cries grow louder and die away. Silence.

--What's the matter with her? Maybe she has died already.

--No. If she had, we'd hear crying, and the doctor would come running and begin to talk nonsense. They'd bring her husband out in a faint, and we'd have to work over him. No, she's not dead.

--Then what are we sitting here for?

--Ask Him.