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Strindberg, August, 1849-1912

"Plays: the Father; Countess Julie; the Outlaw; the Stronger"

Let me see--why did you break your
engagement? Why do you never come to our house any more? Why won't
you come to see us tonight?
[Mlle. Y. appears as if about to speak.]
MME. X. Hush, you needn't speak--I understand it all! It was
because--and because--and because! Yes, yes! Now all the accounts
balance. That's it. Fie, I won't sit at the same table with you.
[Moves her things to another table.] That's the reason I had to
embroider tulips--which I hate--on his slippers, because you are
fond of tulips; that's why [Throws slippers on the floor] we go to
Lake Maelarn in the summer, because you don't like salt water;
that's why my boy is named Eskil--because it's your father's name;
that's why I wear your colors, read your authors, eat your favorite
dishes, drink your drinks--chocolate, for instance; that's why--oh--
my God--it's terrible, when I think about it; it's terrible.
Everything, everything came from you to me, even your passions.
Your soul crept into mine, like a worm into an apple, ate and ate,
bored and bored, until nothing was left but the rind and a little
black dust within. I wanted to get away from you, but I couldn't;
you lay like a snake and charmed me with your black eyes; I felt
that when I lifted my wings they only dragged me down; I lay in the
water with bound feet, and the stronger I strove to keep up the
deeper I worked myself down, down, until I sank to the bottom,
where you lay like a giant crab to clutch me in your claws--and
there I am lying now.


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