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

What do you mean?
    EDDIE: I mean he ain’t right.
    ALFIERI: I don’t get you.
    EDDIE shifts to another position in the chair: Dja ever get a look at him?
    ALFIERI: Not that I know of, no.
    EDDIE: He’s a blond guy. Like ... platinum. You know what I mean?
    ALFIERI: No.
    EDDIE: I mean if you close the paper fast—you could blow him over.
    ALFIERI: Well that doesn’t mean—
    EDDIE: Wait a minute, I’m tellin’ you sump’m. He sings, see. Which is—I mean it’s all right, but sometimes he hits a note, see. I turn around. I mean—high. You know what I mean?
    ALFIERI: Well, that’s a tenor.
    EDDIE: I know a tenor, Mr. Alfieri. This ain’t no tenor. I mean if you came in the house and you didn’t know who was singin’, you wouldn,t be lookin’ for him you be lookin’ for her.
    ALFIERI: Yes, but that’s not—
    EDDIE: I’m tellin’ you sump’m, wait a minute. Please, Mr. Alfieri. I’m tryin’ to bring out my thoughts here. Couple of nights ago my niece brings out a dress which it’s too small for her, because she shot up like a light this last year. He takes the dress, lays it on the table, he cuts it up; one-two-three, he makes a new dress. I mean he looked so sweet there, like an angel—you could kiss him he was so sweet.
    ALFIERI: Now look, Eddie—
    EDDIE: Mr. Alfieri, they’re laughin’ at him on the piers. I’m ashamed. Paper Doll they call him. Blondie now. His brother thinks it’s because he’s got a sense of humor, see—which he’s got—but that ain’t what they’re laughin’. Which they’re not goin’ to come out with it because they know he’s my relative, which they have to see me if they make a crack, y’know? But I know what they’re laughin’ at, and when I think of that guy layin’ his hands on her I could—I mean it’s eatin’ me out, Mr. Alfieri, because I struggled for that girl. And now he comes in my house and—
    ALFIERI: Eddie, look—I have my own children. I understand you. But the law is very specific. The law does not ...
    EDDIE, with a fuller flow of indignation: You mean to tell me that there’s no law that a guy which he ain’t right can go to work and marry a girl and—?
    ALFIERI: You have no recourse in the law, Eddie.
    EDDIE: Yeah, but if he ain’t right, Mr. Alfieri, you mean to tell me—
    ALFIERI: There is nothing you can do, Eddie, believe me.
    EDDIE: Nothin’.
    ALFIERI: Nothing at all. There’s only one legal question here.
    EDDIE: What?
    ALFIERI: The manner in which they entered the country. But I don’t think you want to do anything about that, do you?
    EDDIE: You mean—?
    ALFIERI: Well, they entered illegally.
    EDDIE: Oh, Jesus, no, I wouldn’t do nothin’ about that, I mean—
    ALFIERI: All right, then, let me talk now, eh?
    EDDIE: Mr. Alfieri, I can’t believe what you tell me. I mean there must be some kinda law which—
    ALFIERI: Eddie, I want you to listen to me. Pause. You know, sometimes God mixes up the people. We all love somebody, the wife, the kids—every man’s got somebody that he loves, heh? But sometimes ... there’s too much. You know? There’s too much, and it goes where it mustn’t. A man works hard, he brings up a child, sometimes it’s a niece, sometimes even a daughter, and he never realizes it, but through the years—there is too much love for the daughter, there is too much love for the niece. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?
    EDDIE, sardonically: What do you mean, I shouldn’t look out for her good?
    ALFIERI: Yes, but these things have to end, Eddie, that’s all. The child has to grow up and go away, and the man has to learn to forget. Because after all, Eddie —what other way can it end? Pause. Let her go. That’s my advice. You did your job, now it’s her