BASTON: It needed courage in those days to meet the challenge of the churches with a—with a—(he consults his pages again and walks back towards the mirror, reading the words in an inaudible mutter. When he reaches the mirror he shoots out another phrase)—against the vested interests of superstition. (He catches sight of himself in the mirror and, leaning forward, examines a sty on the lower lid of his left eye. He gives it a tentative squeeze, and then starts out on his walk again.) Callifer’s greatest book was of course The Cosmic Fallacy, but those who were closest to him knew what store he set by that charming pathetic study of Jesus Christ, the Palestinian religious leader, He Was a Man. He was a man. We can say that too, in a different sense, of Callifer. Those of us who loved him most, his wife, his sons—(he consults his pages) his son, his oldest friend and disciple, repeat with sorrow, “He was a man.” We would be unworthy of him—(he reaches the mirror and again against his will his finger goes up and tries the sty; a pause; he turns to pace again; a girl of thirteen comes through the garden window, unnoticed, and watches him) unworthy of him if, if—(he consults his pages, looks around, picks up an ash-tray from a table) we did not recognize that these ashes that at his request I now resign to the river and the fields and the earth he loved (he makes a motion with his ash-tray) are all that remains. (Back again, while the girl observes him.) Now that the immense spaces of the empty universe, of uninhabited planets and cooling stellar systems have taken the place of the Christian God, we have Callifer to thank for a human life worthy of courageous Man. To the Christian superstition of eternal life, he bravely countered with the truth, Eternal Death.

The girl interrupts, interested, matter-of-fact.

ANNE: Has Grandfather died, Dr. Baston?

BASTON (put out): I’m sorry—didn’t hear. … Where did you come from?

ANNE: The garden.

BASTON: Playing?

ANNE: Would you mind being very careful what questions you ask me?

BASTON: Why?

ANNE: There you go again. You see, I’ve made a vow that for one month I’ll speak the exact truth—a lunar month, not a calendar. There are still eighteen days to go.

BASTON: What happens afterwards?

ANNE: I shall tell lies again like everybody else. Is Grandfather dead yet?

BASTON: He’s making a wonderful fight.

ANNE: So would you, wouldn’t you? It can’t be very nice, being dead. Is Granny with him?

BASTON: Yes. And your father. And the doctor, of course.

ANNE: Will he last the night, do you think?

BASTON: So you ask questions too.

ANNE: Only when I really want to know the answer. Practical questions. That was another vow of mine. Only I’m keeping that vow forever.