Michael and His Lost Angel: A Play in Five Acts

by Henry Arthur Jones

MICH. About four miles.

AUDR. I shall get Hannaford to row me over some day. Don’t look alarmed. I won’t come when you are there. I should frighten all your good angels away. (MICHAEL shows a little impatience.) You want to get rid of me. (Going, suddenly turns.) If I come to you as a penitent, you won’t send me away?

MICH. Not if I can be of service to you.

AUDR. I seem to have changed my nature since I came into this room.

MICH. How?

AUDR. I don’t know. I wonder how many natures I have and how often I can change them.

MICH. I wish you wouldn’t speak like that.

AUDR. I won’t. (Very seriously.) You said just now that I was playing with sacred things. I am, or I was until you spoke about her. (With warning.) Don’t let me play with your soul.

MICH. I don’t understand you.

AUDR. You may do me good, but I am far more likely to do you harm.