Read Online A View from the Bridge by Arthur Miller - Free Book Online Page B

mad!
    RODOLPHO: I am furious! Goes to her. Do you think I am so desperate? My brother is desperate, not me. You think I would carry on my back the rest of my life a woman I didn’t love just to be an American? It’s so wonderful? You think we have no tall buildings in Italy? Electric lights? No wide streets? No flags? No automobiles? Only work we don’t have. I want to be an American so I can work, that is the only wonder here—work! How can you insult me, Catherine?
    CATHERINE: I didn’t mean that—
    RODOLPHO: My heart dies to look at you. Why are you so afraid of him?
    CATHERINE, near tears: I don’t know!
    RODOLPHO: Do you trust me, Catherine? You?
    CATHERINE: It’s only that I—He was good to me, Rodolpho. You don’t know him; he was always the sweetest guy to me. Good. He razzes me all the time but he don’t mean it. I know. I would—just feel ashamed if I made him sad. ‘Cause I always dreamt that when I got married he would be happy at the wedding, and laughin’—and now he’s—mad all the time and nasty— She is weeping. Tell him you’d live in Italy—just tell him, and maybe he would start to trust you a little, see? Because I want him to be happy; I mean—I like him, Rodolpho—and I can’t stand it!
    RODOLPHO: Oh, Catherine—oh, little girl.
    CATHERINE: I love you, Rodolpho, I love you.
    RODOLPHO: Then why are you afraid? That he’ll spank you?
    CATHERINE: Don’t, don’t laugh at me! I’ve been here all my life.... Every day I saw him when he left in the morning and when he came home at night. You think it’s so easy to turn around and say to a man he’s nothin’ to you no more?
    RODOLPHO: I know, but—
    CATHERINE: You don’t know; nobody knows! I’m not a baby, I know a lot more than people think I know. Beatrice says to be a woman, but—
    RODOLPHO: Yes.
    CATHERINE: Then why don’t she be a woman? If I was a wife I would make a man happy instead of goin’ at him all the time. I can tell a block away when he’s blue in his mind and just wants to talk to somebody quiet and nice.... I can tell when he’s hungry or wants a beer before he even says anything. I know when his feet hurt him, I mean I know him and now I’m supposed to turn around and make a stranger out of him? I don’t know why I have to do that, I mean. RODOLPHO: Catherine. If I take in my hands a little bird. And she grows and wishes to fly. But I will not let her out of my hands because I love her so much, is that right for me to do? I don’t say you must hate him; but anyway you must go, mustn’t you? Catherine?
    CATHERINE, softly: Hold me.
    RODOLPHO, clasping her to him: Oh, my little girl.
    CATHERINE: Teach me. She is weeping. I don’t know anything, teach me, Rodolpho, hold me.
    RODOLPHO: There’s nobody here now. Come inside. Come. He is leading her toward the bedrooms. And don’t cry any more.
    Light rises on the street. In a moment Eddie appears. He is unsteady, drunk. He mounts the stairs. He enters the apartment, looks around, takes out a bottle from one pocket, puts it on the table. Then another bottle from another pocket, and a third from an inside pocket. He sees the pattern and cloth, goes over to it and touches it, and turns toward upstage.
    EDDIE: Beatrice? He goes to the open kitchen door and looks in. Beatrice? Beatrice?
    Catherine enters from bedroom; under his gaze she adjusts her dress.
    CATHERINE: You got home early.
    EDDIE: Knocked off for Christmas early. Indicating the pattern: Rodolpho makin’ you a dress?
    CATHERINE: No. I’m makin’ a blouse.
    Rodolpho appears in the bedroom doorway. Eddie sees him and his arm jerks slightly in shock. Rodolpho nods to him testingly.
    RODOLPHO: Beatrice went to buy presents for her mother.
    Pause.
    EDDIE: Pack it up. Go ahead. Get your stuff and get outa here. Catherine instantly turns and walks toward