DR. FRELICH: Yes, that’s how it often begins. There’ve been a great many cases of it—war-shock.

VASHYA: It comes on mostly at night. When we have gone to bed. She thinks she sees—men in the room. Hears them sneaking.

DR. FRELICH: Auditory and visual hallucinations.

VASHYA: You understand? It’s very painful to me—embarrassing. You know what my business is?

DR. FRELICH: Who doesn’t, Sir Vashya?

VASHYA: I’m a manufacturer of munitions. I represent—Well, you know all about that.

DR. FRELICH: Everyone knows.

VASHYA: Yes, Sometimes I wish they didn’t. I’d like to be anonymous again. As I was twenty years ago when I was pitching wheat and dung in my native country—a simple peasant that nobody knew—a man named Vashya—otherwise unknown! But I can’t be that anymore. Fate has made it impossible.

DR. FRELICH: Fate has selected you, Sir Vashya, as one of her confederates.

VASHYA [sharply]: What do you mean by that?

DR. FRELICH [smiling]: Perhaps I expressed myself a little awkwardly.

VASHYA: You meant it as a compliment?

DR. FRELICH: Of course.

VASHYA: So many people have been paying me left-handed compliments lately that I’ve become a little suspicious. Only the other day a young man jumped on the running board of my car in front of the palace and shouted something about me, Vashya Shontine, being the—butcher of the world!

DR. FRELICH: Good—heavens!

VASHYA: He spoke my own native language. I think that’s what hurt me most. Being insulted by a man of my own country— [Hastily.] I mean, you see, a man of my NATIVE country. Of course I consider myself a citizen of THIS country now.

DR. FRELICH: Yes, of course, and one or our best citizens, Sir Vashya.

VASHYA: Thank you.

DR. FRELICH: And what did you say became of the young man?

VASHYA: What young man?

DR. FRELICH: The one who insulted you in front of the palace.

VASHYA: Him? I understand they dealt with him rather harshly. [He smiles.] He was executed that very evening in a manner in which I would prefer not to be executed!

DR. FRELICH [a slight pause]: Splendid!

VASHYA [bitterly]: Yes, he had the effrontery to call me a dirty butcher, me, Vashya Shon—Excuse me, Doctor, I’ve gotten a little bit off the track of what I wanted to see you about.

DR. FRELICH: Yes. Your wife.

VASHYA: My poor wife. Yes.

DR. FRELICH: Suppose you tell me everything from the beginning. The history of such cases is very important. Your relationship, Sir Vashya, has that been always—satisfactory?

VASHYA: I love my wife, Dr. Frelich.

DR. FRELICH: Yes.

VASHYA: Very dearly. Everything I have done, Doctor, was done for her, that she should admire me. She was like, you see, a young lady that I once knew, a very proud young lady who of course would have nothing to do with me, Vashya, a common peasant who roasted his naked back pitching wheat on her father’s land— And I swore to myself that someday I’d have me a woman like that for my wife!— You see?