ROBERT.
[Agreeably.] Once I made a little epigram about statues. All statues are of two kinds. [He folds his arms across his chest.] The statue which says: How shall I get down? and the other kind [he unfolds his arms and extends his right arm, averting his head] the statue which says: In my time the dunghill was so high.
RICHARD.
The second one for me, please.
ROBERT.
[Lazily.] Will you give me one of those long cigars of yours?
[Richard selects a Virginia cigar from the box on the table and hands it to him with the straw drawn out.]
ROBERT.
[Lighting it.] These cigars Europeanize me. If Ireland is to become a new Ireland she must first become European. And that is what you are here for, Richard. Some day we shall have to choose between England and Europe. I am a descendant of the dark foreigners: that is why I like to be here. I may be childish. But where else in Dublin can I get a bandit cigar like this or a cup of black coffee? The man who drinks black coffee is going to conquer Ireland. And now I will take just a half measure of that whisky, Richard, to show you there is no ill feeling.
RICHARD.
[Points.] Help yourself.
ROBERT.
[Does so.] Thanks. [He drinks and goes on as before.] Then you yourself, the way you loll on that lounge: then your boy’s voice and also—Bertha herself. Do you allow me to call her that, Richard? I mean as an old friend of both of you.
RICHARD.
O why not?
ROBERT.
[With animation.] You have that fierce indignation which lacerated the heart of Swift. You have fallen from a higher world, Richard, and you are filled with fierce indignation, when you find that life is cowardly and ignoble. While I... shall I tell you?
RICHARD.
By all means.