CHAMBERS. There was a man, Kravitsky. He came from Kiev. He was a friend and fellow functionary Within the Party. One day after a meeting As we were speaking at our ease, Kravitsy Mulled aloud how he had come to believe That without the idea Of an existing deity He saw little chance of peace Or true cohesion Among any assemblage of peoples. This did not mean He thought there was a God; only That this might be. It was enough. [Pause]. There came to him One night a message to take a trip Outside his usual orbit. He was not heard of for two days—until A couple of detectives Came to the door—to his wife and their two children— To announce how Kravitsky Had died of a self-inflicted Gunshot wound in a mid- Manhattan hotel. Near him a pistol Lay and by it a letter he had written To Anishka His wife. But she knew it had been a hit For he had promised He would never be guilty Of such an outrage to his family. And if Found dead, she should know it had been rigged. I know Anishka. [Pause]. On the quiet, Apart from the Party, I helped them find New quarters. In the move, the boy confided How his father had oiled and wiped His pistol to put it in storage. Smiling, He had announced to the boy, “Here in these United States it is not needed. “Papa!” the boy cried, “Keep it, keep it!” As an aside, This pistol was one of the items Of his estate. The, quote, suicide Pistol had been conveniently and mysteriously provided. [Pause]. I have been asked to suggest a motive for this claim of mine against Mr Hiss. My reasons are encapsulated in this story. Mr Hiss is mired, as I was, in the awfulness of it. It is underground and furtive. It concerns life and death. It concerns the silencing of thought. It concerns an unseen battle being fought, so to speak, in the bowels of the city. The outcome to be, as I have said over and over, the subjugation of the United States into the all-devouring appetite of International Communism. I know this; and I know that Alger Hiss knows this. How petty any personal gripe or grudge against the man would be, measured against these realities. [Pause]. This is the point of meltdown For the west. And it is to that that I am witness. And I am wretched That from the warp and woof of a once-dear friendship It must be rent. [His head goes down. A hand goes to his face. With eyes shut, he places his thumb and forefinger on each side of the bridge of his nose]. NIXON. That will be all for today, Mr Chambers.
from THE GREAT ROCKY MOUNTAIN DANCE CO. . . MAUREEN. Are you still eating? O. I just started. MAUREEN. I absented myself from work. I see my sister is gone. O. Yes. [She sits next to O]. O. Would you like a baloney sandwich? MAUREEN. Not at all. O. It’s lacking mustard. MAUREEN. You said you imagined a dream girl in the bubbles when you did your dishes? O. Not always. MAUREEN. For a starter—[Tears his sandwich from his hand, drops in on the bench beside him] how about me? [Puts her arm around him and starts unbuttoning his shirt]. O. Hey! Wait a moment! What do you think you are doing? MAUREEN. I want to see that big brave chest or yours. O. Are you out of your mind? In the first place it isn’t so big and brave. It’s sunken. I had rickets when I was a baby. In the second place, I don’t care to be mauled even by the mayor’s daughter. MAUREEN. [Bending him backward on the bench, crushing his sandwich]. Let’s go to a hotel. We could order champagne and I could drink out of that little trough. [She tickles the middle of his chest]. O. Are you crazy! Is this common to you? Do you always come on like a barracuda? Have you no soul? You have all the romance of a machine. MAUREEN. Is that a refusal? I take it it is! Do you know how that makes me feel? And here I’ve been dreaming of you ever since I saw how you dealt with those nasty prales. I thought you wanted a girl. O. [Buttoning up] Of my own choosing, thank you. And it would have to be someone who brought out of me great tenderness and the need to protect. MAUREEN. You men and your silly fantasies! You make me sick. Where’s your damned white horse? We modern women know that gallantry is a lot of hooey. O. Hey! Hey! MAUREEN. Now what? O. My pen! My pen has fallen out of my shirt pocket. MAUREEN. Oh, for Pete’s sake! O. It’s a good pen. [Retrieves it]. MAUREEN. Listen: I cut time out from my work. And what a waste! Furthermore, I see no reason to have you to dinner tonight. You are a washout. But what can one expect from a professional dishwasher? O. What indeed? MAUREEN. I don’t know what-the-hell-good men are anyway! [Storms off]. O. [Alone] I don’t either. [Crump, a female police officer, stomps on]. CRUMP. Hey, you! Were you annoying her? O. I hope so. Look at this! On account of her I sat on my sandwich. It’s squashed. [Peels it from bench. Turns his back to Crump]. Is any stuck to my back? CRUMP. Some little dibs and dabs. [Picks food off]. O. Darn her! I’d like to pick her up and drop her in a briar patch. CRUMP. Here you! No more threatening talk like that.
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