nce. Fragrance that is--no one thing in here
but--reminiscent. (_silence, she raises wet eyes_) We need the haunting
beauty from the life we've left. I need that, (_he takes her hands and
breathes her name_) Let me reach my country with you. I'm not a plant.
After all, they don't--accept me. Who does--accept me? Will you?

TOM: My dear--dear, dear, Claire--you move me so! You stand alone in a
clearness that breaks my heart, (_her hands move up his arms. He takes
them to hold them from where they would go--though he can hardly do it_)
But you've asked what you yourself could answer best. We'd only stop in
the country where everyone stops.

CLAIRE: We might come through--to radiance.

TOM: Radiance is an enclosing place.

CLAIRE: Perhaps radiance lighting forms undreamed, (_her reckless
laugh_) I'd be willing to--take a chance, I'd rather lose than never
know.

TOM: No, Claire. Knowing you from underneath, I know you couldn't bear
to lose.

CLAIRE: Wouldn't men say you were a fool!

TOM: They would.

CLAIRE: And perhaps you are. (_he smiles a little_) I feel so desperate,
because if only I could--show you what I am, you might see I could have
without losing. But I'm a stammering thing with you.

TOM: You do show me what you are.

CLAIRE: I've known a few moments that were life. Why don't they help me
now? One was in the air. I was up with Harry--flying--high. It was about
four months before David was born--the doctor was furious--pregnant
women are supposed to keep to earth. We were going fast--I _was_
flying--I had left the earth. And then--within me, movement, for the
first time--stirred to life far in air--movement within. The man unborn,
he too, would fly. And so--I always loved him. He was movement--and
wonder. In his short life were many flights. I never told anyone about
the last one. His little bed was by the window--he wasn't four years
old. It was night, but him not asleep. He saw the morning star--you
know--the morning star. Brighter--stranger--reminiscent--and a promise.
He pointed--'Mother', he asked me, 'what is there--beyond the stars?' A
baby, a sick baby--the morning star. Next night--the finger that pointed
was--(_suddenly bites her own finger_) But, yes, I am glad. He would
always have tried to move and too much would hold him. Wonder would
die--and he'd laugh at soaring, (_looking down, sidewise_) Though I
liked his voice. So I wish you'd stay near me--for I like your voice,
too.

TOM: C