Oh, yes! —Although they do say that the pen is sometimes mightier than the sword.
VASHYA [
with a laugh
]: Good! I like to see wit in a man of learning. It isn’t a combination that occurs very often. . . . Have a seat, Doctor. I’m afraid I don’t remember your name.
DR. FRELICH : Frelich.
VASHYA : Jew?
DR. FRELICH : Yes. Partly.
VASHYA : What are your politics?
DR. FRELICH : I have none.
VASHYA : Good! You haven’t removed your gloves, Doctor. I don’t like the feel of kid gloves. My hands have gotten rather more sensitive in the last twenty years since I stopped pitching wheat in the Ukraine.
DR. FRELICH : Pitching wheat?
VASHYA : Yes!
DR. FRELICH : Then it’s true that you were—?
VASHYA : A peasant? Yes! Hmmmm. I’ve come a long way since then.
DR. FRELICH : Obviously you have!
VASHYA : I’m glad to know you. Sit down, sit down. [
Pause
.] I understand that you’re a very good man to consult about matters concerning the brain. Is that right?
DR. FRELICH : The brain’s my specialty, Sir Vashya. Are you by any chance the patient?
VASHYA : Do I look like there was anything wrong with my brain?
DR. FRELICH [
urbanely smiling
]: No. No, I can’t say that you do.
VASHYA [
relaxing
]: It’s my wife.
DR. FRELICH : Ah. Your wife.
VASHYA : Yes. The former Princess de Montvert. She comes of a very old family, you know.
DR. FRELICH : Yes? I’ve met her several times at social functions. She’s a charming lady.
VASHYA : Yes, a lady, every inch of her. Perhaps too much so. These aristocrats, you know, they have bad nerves. Me, I’ve got no nerves. Not a single nerve in my body. You want to know why that is? I’ll tell you—it’s because I’m a peasant! Yes, I come of the
slave
class, Doctor! Extraordinary, isn’t it? Me, Vashya, being the husband of an ultra-aristocratic little princess! —Hmmm . Sometimes I think I made a mistake in marrying such a finely-bred woman. One of our healthy peasant girls might have been more suitable. You see, this Lillian of mine—my wife—she’s a victim of
nerves
!
DR. FRELICH : Nerves are bad things.
VASHYA : Terrible things. Thank God I don’t have them. It’s like this, Doctor. Her country, you know, has been practically wiped out in the war.
DR. FRELICH : Yes. A terrible thing.
VASHYA : Practically destroyed, all of it. And her family—you see—her parents, brothers, sisters, all of her relatives, people she knew in her youth and loved—all of them GONE! It has had an unfortunate effect on her mind!
DR. FRELICH : Yes. Quite naturally it would have.
VASHYA : And now she has hallucinations, Doctor. The war, you understand, and all that she’s been through—has upset her imagination. She thinks she sees things, hears things—that are entirely fictitious!
DR. FRELICH : Hmmm. I’m sorry to hear about this. When did it begin?
VASHYA : It’s been going on for some time. Six or seven months. A friend of hers was killed at the front, and when she received the news . . .
DR. FRELICH : Yes, that’s how it often begins. There’ve been a great many cases of it—war -shock.
VASHYA : It comes on mostly at night. When we have gone to bed. She thinks she sees—men in the room. Hears them sneaking.
DR. FRELICH : Auditory and visual hallucinations.
VASHYA : You understand? It’s very painful to me—embarrassing . You know what my business is?
DR. FRELICH : Who doesn’t, Sir Vashya?
VASHYA : I’m a manufacturer of munitions. I represent—Well , you know all about that.
DR. FRELICH : Everyone knows.
VASHYA : Yes, Sometimes I wish they didn’t. I’d like to be anonymous again. As I was twenty years ago when I was pitching wheat and dung in my native country—a simple peasant that nobody knew—a man named Vashya—otherwise unknown! But I can’t be that anymore. Fate has made it impossible.
DR. FRELICH : Fate has selected you, Sir Vashya, as one of her confederates.
VASHYA [
sharply
]: What do you mean by that?
DR. FRELICH