ANDERSON.
Well, it’s all very puzzling—almost funny. It’s curious how these little things strike us even in the most— (he breaks off and begins putting on Richard’s coat) I’d better take him his own coat. I know what he’ll say— (imitating Richard’s sardonic manner) “Anxious about my soul, Pastor, and also about your best coat.” Eh?
JUDITH.
Yes, that is just what he will say to you. (Vacantly.) It doesn’t matter: I shall never see either of you again.
ANDERSON.
(rallying her). Oh pooh, pooh, pooh! (He sits down beside her.) Is this how you keep your promise that I shan’t be ashamed of my brave wife?
JUDITH.
No: this is how I break it. I cannot keep my promises to him: why should I keep my promises to you?
ANDERSON.
Don’t speak so strangely, my love. It sounds insincere to me. (She looks unutterable reproach at him.) Yes, dear, nonsense is always insincere; and my dearest is talking nonsense. Just nonsense. (Her face darkens into dumb obstinacy. She stares straight before her, and does not look at him again, absorbed in Richard’s fate. He scans her face; sees that his rallying has produced no effect; and gives it up, making no further effort to conceal his anxiety.) I wish I knew what has frightened you so. Was there a struggle? Did he fight?
JUDITH.
No. He smiled.
ANDERSON.
Did he realise his danger, do you think?
JUDITH.
He realised yours.
ANDERSON.
Mine!
JUDITH.
(monotonously). He said, “See that you get him safely out of harm’s way.” I promised: I can’t keep my promise. He said, “Don’t for your life let him know of my danger.” I’ve told you of it. He said that if you found it out, you could not save him—that they will hang him and not spare you.