From the Play
MATTIE, a woman of Irish Catholic background, in her sixties.
JACKSON, her husband, in his sixties.
The living room of an empty apartment for rent. Doors lead to the main hall and the rest of the apartment.
TIME: The present.
Script Extract :
JACK: It seems to me, Matt, that these are the inclinations of an adolescent mind at work: “This is it. This is the very place of fame.” And you talk of museums and you talk of mementos. If you were to look around and you could tell me, word for word, what’s so spectacular about this place, now, what would you say? Word for word?
MATTIE: Not spectacular, Jack. I never said spectacular. I’d expect just the opposite if I expected anything at all. A quiet dignity, Jack.
JACK: Oh, yes, very quiet.
MATTIE: That’d be my expectation.
JACK: Very hidden. Into the walls, it is.
MATTIE: Well, I feel it.
JACK: What do you have here? Some famous man’s rooms looking for all their life just like your ordinary set of rooms’d look to any bystander. I see nothing famous looking about this room.
MATTIE: (Hushed of voice again.) It’s the feeling you get.
JACK: The feeling, is it?
MATTIE: Of the presence.
JACK: Oh, the presence you’re talking about.
MATTIE: It’s the spirit, too, wafting about in the air of him being here.
JACK: A draft, is that it?
MATTIE: There’s a certain number of vibrations pitching forward here and there.
JACK: Ho no, ho no no no, Mattie. Hold up a minute.
MATTIE: Yes. Vibrations.