Exiles: A Play in Three Acts

by James Joyce

BERTHA.
[Gravely.] Some day I will be old.

ROBERT.
[Shakes his head.] I cannot imagine it. Tonight you are young and beautiful. Tonight you have come back to me. [With passion.] Who knows what will be tomorrow? I may never see you again or never see you as I do now.

BERTHA.
Would you suffer?

ROBERT.
[Looks round the room, without answering.] This room and this hour were made for your coming. When you have gone—all is gone.

BERTHA.
[Anxiously.] But you will see me again, Robert... as before.

ROBERT.
[Looks full at her.] To make him—Richard—suffer.

BERTHA.
He does not suffer.

ROBERT.
[Bowing his head.] Yes, yes. He does.

BERTHA.
He knows we like each other. Is there any harm, then?

ROBERT.
[Raising his head.] No there is no harm. Why should we not? He does not know yet what I feel. He has left us alone here at night, at this hour, because he longs to know it—he longs to be delivered.