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diff --git a/3068.txt b/3068.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a7c6a15 --- /dev/null +++ b/3068.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3879 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Washington Square Plays, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Washington Square Plays + Volume XX, The Drama League Series of Plays + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February, 2002 [Etext #3068] +Posting Date: November 1, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WASHINGTON SQUARE PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean + + + + + +WASHINGTON SQUARE PLAYS + +Volume XX, The Drama League Series of Plays + + + 1. The Clod. By Lewis Beach + 2. Eugenically Speaking. By Edward Goodman + 3. Overtones. By Alice Gerstenberg + 4. Helena's Husband. By Philip Moeller + + +With An Introduction By Walter Prichard Eaton + +Preface By Edward Goodman Director of the Washington Square Players + + Garden City New York + Doubleday, Page & Company + 1925 + + Copyright, 1916, By + Doubleday, Page & Company + + The Clod. Copyright, 1914, By Emmet Lewis Beach + Eugenically Speaking. Copyright, 1914, By Edward Goodman + Overtones. Copyright, 1913, By Alice Gerstenberg + Helena's Husband. Copyright, 1915, By Philip Moeller + + +In its present form these plays are dedicated to the reading public +only, and no performance of them may be given. + +Printed In The United States At The Country Life Press, Garden City, N. +Y. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The rigid conventionality of the theatre has been frequently remarked +upon. Why the world should ever fear a radical, indeed, is hard to see, +since he has against him the whole dead weight of society; but least of +all need the radical be dreaded in the theatre. When the average person +pays money for his amusements, he is little inclined to be pleased with +something which doesn't amuse him: and what amuses him, nine times out +of ten, is what has amused him. That is why changes in the theatre are +relatively slow, and customs long prevail, even till it seems they may +corrupt the theatrical world. + +For many generations in our playhouse it was the custom to follow the +long play of the evening with an "afterpiece," generally in one act, but +always brief, and almost always gay, if not farcical. Audiences, which +in the early days assembled before seven o'clock, had to be sent home +happy. After the tragedy, the slap-stick or the loud guffaw; after +"Romeo and Juliet," Cibber's "Hob in the Well"; after "King Lear," "The +Irish Widow." (These two illustrations are taken at random from the +programs of the Charleston theatre in 1773.) This custom persisted +until comparatively recent times. The fathers and mothers of the present +generation can remember when William Warren, at the Boston Museum, would +turn of an evening from such a part as his deep-hearted Sir Peter Teazle +to the loud and empty vociferations of a Morton farce. The entertainment +in those days would hardly have been considered complete without the +"afterpiece," or, as time went on, sometimes the "curtain raiser." It is +by no means certain that theatre seats were always cheaper than to-day. +In some cases, certainly, they were relatively quite as high. But it +is certain that you got more for your money. You frequently saw your +favorite actor in two contrasted roles, two contrasted styles of acting +perhaps, and you saw him from early evening till a decently late hour. +You didn't get to the theatre at 8.30, wait for the curtain to rise on a +thin-spun drawing-room comedy at 8.45, and begin hunting for your wraps +at 10.35. One hates to think, in fact, what would have happened to a +manager fifty years ago who didn't give more than that for the price +of a ticket. Our fathers and mothers watched their pennies more sharply +than we do. + +For various reasons, one of them no doubt being the growth of cheaper +forms of amusement and the consequent desertion from the traditional +playhouse of a considerable body of those who least like, and can least +afford, to spend money irrespective of returns, the "afterpiece" and +"curtain raiser" have practically vanished from our stage. They have so +completely vanished, in fact, that theatre goers have lost not only the +habit of expecting them, but the imaginative flexibility to enjoy them. +If you should play "Romeo and Juliet" to-day and then follow it with +a one-act farce, your audience would be uncomfortably bewildered. They +would be unable to make the necessary adjustment of mood. If you focus +your vision rapidly from a near to a far object, you probably suffer +from eye-strain. Similarly, the jump from one play to the other in the +theatre gives a modern audience mind- or mood-strain. It is largely +a matter of habit. We, to-day, have lost the trick through lack of +practice. The old custom is dead; we are fixed in a new one. If Maude +Adams, for instance, should follow "The Little Minister" with a roaring +farce, or Sothern should turn on the same evening from "If I Were King" +to "Box and Cox," we should feel that some artistic unity had been +rudely violated; nor am I at all sure, being a product of this +generation, but that we should be quite right. + +Matters standing as they do, then, it seems to me that the talk +we frequently hear about reviving "the art of the one-act play" by +restoring the curtain raisers or afterpieces to the programs of our +theatres is reactionary and futile. All recent attempts to pad out +a slim play with an additional short one have failed to meet with +approval, even when the short piece was so masterly a work as Barrie's +"The Will," splendidly acted by John Drew, or the same author's "Twelve +Pound Look," acted by Miss Barrymore. Nor is it at all certain that the +one-act plays of our parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, +the names of which you may read by the thousands on ancient playbills, +added anything to the store of dramatic literature. Some of them are +decently entombed in the catacombs of Lacy's British Drama, or still +available for amateurs in French's library. Did you ever try to read +one? Of course, there was "Box and Cox," but it is doubtful if there +will be any great celebration at the tercentenary of Morton's death. +For the most part, those ancient afterpieces were frankly padding, +conventional farces to fill up the bill and send the audiences home +happy. To the real art of the drama or the development of the one-act +play as a form of serious literary expression, they made precious little +contribution. They were a theatrical tradition, a convention. + +But the one-act play, nonetheless, has an obvious right to existence, as +much as the short story, and there are plentiful proofs that it can be +as terse, vivid, and significant. Most novelists don't tack on a short +story at the end of their books for full measure, but issue their contes +either in collections or in the pages of the magazines. What similar +chances are there, or can there be, for the one-act play, the dramatic +short story? + +An obvious chance is offered by vaudeville. The vaudeville audience +is in the mood for rapid alterations of attention; it has the habit of +variety. This is just as much a convention of vaudeville as the single +play is now a convention of the traditional theatre. Indeed, anything +longer than a one-act play in vaudeville would be frowned upon. Any +one wishing to push the analogy can find more than one correspondence +between a vaudeville program and the contents of a "popular" magazine; +each, certainly, is the present refuge of short fiction. Yet vaudeville +can hardly be considered an ideal cradle for a serious dramatic art. +(Shall we say that the analogy to the "popular" magazine still holds?) +The average "playlet"--atrocious word--in the variety theatres is +a dreadful thing, crude, obvious, often sensational or sentimental, +usually very badly acted at least in the minor recircles, and still +more a frank padding, a thing of the footlights, than the afterpiece +of our parents. It has been frequently said by those optimists who are +forever discovering the birth of the arts in popular amusements that +vaudeville audiences will appreciate and applaud the best. This is +only in part true. They will appreciate the best juggler, the cleverest +trained dog, the most appealing ballad singer such as Chevalier or Harry +Lauder. But they will no more appreciate those subtleties of dramatic +art which must have free play in the serious development of the one-act +play than the readers of a "popular" magazine in America (or England +either) would appreciate Kipling's "They," or George Moore's "The Wild +Goose," or de Maupassant's "La Ficelle." To expect them to is silly; +and to expect that because the supreme, vivid example of any form is +comprehensible to all classes and all mixtures of classes, therefore the +supreme example is going to be developed out of the commonplace stuff +such mixed audiences daily enjoy, is equally to misunderstand the +evolution of an art product in our complex modern world. But, indeed, +the matter scarce calls for argument. Vaudeville itself furnishes +the answer. Where are its one-act plays which can be called dramatic +literature? It is a hopeful sign, perhaps, that certain of the plays +in this volume have percolated into the varieties! But they were not +cradled there. + +If the traditional theatre, then, is now in a rut which affords no room +for the one-act play, and if vaudeville is an empty cradle for this +branch of dramatic art, where shall we turn? The one-act play to-day has +found refuge and encouragement in the experimental theatres, and among +the amateurs. The best one-act plays so far written in English have come +out of Ireland, chiefly from the Abbey Theatre in Dublin where they were +first acted by a company recruited from amateur players. Synge's "Riders +to the Sea," Yeats's "The Hour Glass," the comedies of Lady Gregory and +others of that school, have not only proved the power of this form +to carry the sense of reality, but its power as well to reach tragic +intensity or high poetic beauty. The sombre loveliness and cleansing +reality of Synge's masterpiece are almost unrivaled in our short-play +literature. Not from the Abbey Theatre, but from the pen of an Irishman, +Lord Dunsany, have come such short fantasies as "The Gods of the +Mountain" and "The Glittering Gate," which the so-called "commercial" +theatre has quite ignored, but which have been played extensively by +amateurs and experimental theatres throughout America; and the latter +piece, especially, has probably been provocative of more experimental +stagecraft and a greater stimulation of poetic fancy among amateur +producers than any drama, short or long, written in recent years. + +When the Washington Square Players, for the most part amateurs of the +theatre, began their experiment in the spring of 1915, they began with +a bill of one-act plays. With but two exceptions, all their succeeding +productions have been composed of one-act plays, usually in groups of +four, the last one for the evening sometimes being a pantomime. (It +should be noted that a program of four one-act plays has the unity of +a collection. A short play following a long one is overbalanced and the +program seems to most of us awry.) The reason for this choice was not +entirely a devotion to the art of the one-act play. When players are +inexperienced, it is far easier to present a group of plays of one act +than it is to sustain a single set of characters for an entire evening. +The action moves more rapidly, the tale is told before the monotony of +the actors becomes too apparent. Moreover, the difference between the +plays helps to furnish that variety which the players themselves cannot +supply by their impersonations. Still again, it was no doubt easier for +the Washington Square Players to find novelties within their capacity +in the one-act form than in the longer medium. At any rate, they did +produce one-act plays, and are still producing them. + +Four of these plays are presented in this book, four which won approval +first on the stage of the Bandbox Theatre and later, acted by other +players, in various other theatres. One of them, "Overtones," is a +theatrical novelty which if prolonged beyond the one-act form would +become monotonous. Another, "Helena's Husband," is a bantering satire, +an intellectual "skit," which would equally suffer by prolongation. +"Eugenically Speaking" could certainly bear no further extension, unless +its mood were deepened into seriousness. Finally, "The Clod" approaches +the true episodic roundness of the one-act drama, or the short story, +in its best estate. Here is a single episode of reality, taken from its +context and set apart for contemplation. It begins at the proper moment +for understanding, it ends when the tale is told. There is here +more than a hint of the art of Guy de Maupassant. And the episode is +theatrically exciting--a prime requisite for practical performance, and +spiritually significant--a prime requisite for the serious consideration +of intelligent spectators. In these four plays, then, written for the +Washington Square Players, the one-act form demonstrates its right +to our attention and cultivation, for it takes interesting ideas or +situations which are incapable of expansion into longer dramas and makes +intelligent entertainment of what otherwise would be lost. + +Because such organizations as the Abbey Theatre have demonstrated the +value of the one-act play in portraying local life, in stimulating a +local stage literature; because such organizations in America as the +Washington Square Players have demonstrated the superior value of the +one-act play as a weapon with which to win recognition and build up the +histrionic capacity to tackle longer works; and, finally, because the +one-act play offers such obvious advantages to amateurs, it seems fairly +certain that in the immediate future, at least, the one-act play in +America, as a serious art form, will be cultivated by the experimental +theatres, the so-called "Little Theatres," and by the more ambitious and +talented amateurs. As our experimental theatres increase in number--and +they are increasing--it will probably play its part, and perhaps no +insignificant a part, in the development of a national drama through +the development of a local drama and the cultivation of a taste +for self-expression in various communities. It is only when these +experimental theatres are sufficient in number, and the amateur +spirit has been sufficiently aroused in various communities, that the +commercial theatre of tradition will be seriously influenced. When that +time comes--if it does come--one of the results will undoubtedly be a +more flexible theatre, the growth of repertoire companies, the expansion +of the activities of popular players. In a more flexible theatre, where +repertoire is a rule rather than a strange and dreaded experiment, and +where actors pride themselves on versatility and the public honors them +for it, the one-act play will again have its place, but not then as a +curtain raiser or afterpiece, to pad out an evening or "send the suburbs +home happy," but as a serious branch of dramatic art. In that happy +day Barrie will not be the only first-class talent in the commercial +playhouse daring the one-act form, or at least able to induce a +commercial manager to produce his work in that form. + +But that time is not yet. The one-act play in our country to-day is an +ally of the amateurs and the innovators. For that very reason, +perhaps, it is the form which will bear the most watching for signs of +imagination and for flashes of insight and interpretative significance. + +WALTER PRICHARD EATON. Stockbridge, Massachusetts. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE PLAYS + +If fools did not rush in where theatrical angels fear to tread, this +Preface would never have been written. Two years back the Washington +Square Players were called, by many who had theatrical experience, +fools. Now some term us pioneers. The future may write us fools again, +or something better--the conclusion being that the difference between +the fool and the pioneer lies in the outcome; the secret, that the +motive power behind both is enthusiasm. + +Without enthusiasm the Washington Square Players could never have come +into existence, nor survived. From the first, when we had barely enough +money for rent and none for the costumes and properties we borrowed and +disguised, ours was an enthusiasm strong in quantity as well as quality. +The theatre is a peculiar art. Both in production and reception it +requires numbers and an enduring faith. Many a similar attempt has +failed because its experimentation and expression have been restricted +by a single point of view. Many have not continued because the desire +has waned in the face of the hardships and sacrifices entailed. But the +Players rightly had a plural name. We were, and are, a collection of +many individuals--actors, authors, artists, and art-lovers--all fired +with the sincere desire to give to playgoers something they had not been +able previously to find on the American stage. And our desire has been +strong enough to face and fight, and to continue to face and fight, +the ever-growing, ever-changing problems of finance, art, and human +inter-relations, which are the inescapable factors of the theatre. + +We believed in the democracy of the drama. But we understand democracy +to mean, not the gratification of the taste of the many to the exclusion +of that of the few, but the satisfaction of all tastes. We had no +quarrel with the stage as it was, save that there wasn't enough of it. +We felt there was a public that wanted something other than it could +get--as evidenced by the rise of such institutions as the Drama +League--and that that public was large enough to support what it wanted +once it learned where to find it. The problem was to bridge the gap of +waiting. And it was met by the sacrifices of all those who worked at +first for nothing, and then for little more, so that the Players would +not fall into debt in the process of reaching an audience. As an able +New York dramatic critic stated, the establishment of the Washington +Square Players was merely one more proof that in America, as elsewhere, +joy was a greater incentive to work than money. + +This enthusiasm among the workers, both in quality and quantity, was +generously shared by the spectators. The public which looked for plays, +acting and producing different from what it could find on the regular +stage, proved us right in believing that it was sufficiently large and +interested to warrant our experiment. Critics and patrons gave us from +the first, and we hope will continue to give us, that personal interest +and sympathetic appreciation which have been among the most vital +factors contributing to our growth. + +So far we have produced thirty-two plays, of one-act and greater length, +and of these twenty have been American. The emphasis of our interest has +been placed on the American playwright, because we feel that no American +theatre can be really successful unless it develops a native drama to +present and interpret those emotions, ideas, characters, and conditions +with which we, as Americans, are primarily concerned. + +Of these twenty American plays the Drama League has selected four for +this volume of its series. Excluding comment on my farce--for an author +is notoriously unfit to judge his own work--I think it may be said that +these represent a fair example of the success the Players have met with +in trying to encourage the writing of American plays with "freshness and +sincerity of theme and development; skilful delineation of character; +non-didactic presentation of an idea; and dramatic and esthetic +effectiveness without theatricalism." They are the early products of a +new movement in the American theatre of which we are happy to be a +part, and if their publication meets with the sympathetic, appreciative +reception that has been accorded their production, we feel and hope that +not only these authors, not only the Washington Square Players, but all +of the workers in this new movement will be encouraged and stimulated to +a further effort, a greater mastery, and a bigger achievement. + +EDWARD GOODMAN, Director of the Washington Square Players. Comedy +Theatre, New York, 1916. + + + + +I. THE CLOD + +A One-Act Play + +By Lewis Beach + +Copyright, 1914, by Emmet Lewis Beach, Jr. + +(Note--The author acknowledges indebtedness to "The Least of These," by +Donal Hamilton Haines, a short story which suggested the play.) + +"The Clod" was produced by the Washington Square Players, under the +direction of Holland Hudson, at the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, +beginning January 10, 1916. + +In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the following: + + MARY TRASK. Josephine A. Meyer + THADDEUS TRASK. John King + A NORTHERN SOLDIER. Glenn Hunter + A SOUTHERN SERGEANT. Robert Strange + A SOUTHERN PRIVATE. Spalding Hall + +The Scene was designed by John King. + +"The Clod" was subsequently revived by the Washington Square Players +at the Comedy Theatre, New York City, beginning June 5, 1916. In this +production Mary Morris played the part of Mary Trask. + +Later it was presented in vaudeville by Martin Beck, opening at the +Palace Theatre, New York City, August 21, 1916, with the following cast: + + MARY TRASK. Sarah Padden + THADDEUS TRASK. John Cameron + A NORTHERN SOLDIER. Glenn Hunter + A SOUTHERN SERGEANT. Thomas Hamilton + A SOUTHERN PRIVATE. Gordon Gunnis + +"The Clod" was first produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, in March, +1914, with the cast as follows: + + MARY TRASK. Christine Hayes + THADDEUS TRASK. Norman B. Clark + A NORTHERN SOLDIER. Dale Kennedy + A SOUTHERN SERGEANT. James W. D. Seymour + DICK. Richard Southgate + + +THE CLOD + +CHARACTERS + + THADDEUS TRASK + MARY TRASK + A NORTHERN SOLDIER + A SOUTHERN SERGEANT + DICK + + +SCENE: The kitchen of a farmhouse on the borderline between the Southern +and Northern states. TIME: Ten o'clock in the evening, September, 1863. + +The back wall is broken at stage left by the projection at right angles +of a partially enclosed staircase, four steps of which, leading to the +landing, are visible to the audience. Underneath the enclosed stairway +is a cubby-hole with a door; in front of the door stands a small table. +To the left of this table is a kitchen chair. A door leading to the yard +is in the centre of the unbroken wall back; to the right of the door, +a cupboard, to the left, a stove. In the wall right are two windows. +Between them is a bench, on which there are a pail and a dipper; +above the bench a towel hanging on a nail, and above the towel a +double-barrelled shot-gun suspended on two pegs. + +In the wall left, and well down stage, is a closed door leading to +another room. In the centre of the kitchen stands a large table; to the +right and left of this, two straight-backed chairs. + +The walls are roughly plastered. The stage is lighted by the moon, which +shines into the room through the windows, and a candle on table centre. +When the door back is opened, a glimpse of a desolate farmyard is seen +in the moonlight. + +When the curtain rises, THADDEUS TRASK, a man of fifty or sixty years +of age, short and thick set, slow in speech and movement, yet in perfect +health, sits lazily smoking his pipe in a chair at the right of the +centre table. + +After a moment, MARY TRASK, a tired, emaciated woman, whose years equal +her husband's, enters from the yard, carrying a pail of water and a +lantern. She puts the pail on the bench and hangs the lantern above it; +then crosses to the stove. + +MARY. Ain't got wood 'nough fer breakfast, Thad. + +THADDEUS. I'm too tired to go out now; wait till mornin'. + +[Pause. MARY lays the fire in the stove.] + +Did I tell ye that old man Reed saw three Southern troopers pass his +house this mornin'? + +MARY [takes coffee pot from stove, crosses to bench, fills pot with +water]. I wish them soldiers would git out o' the neighborhood. Whenever +I see 'em passin', I have t' steady myself 'gainst somethin' or I'd +fall. I couldn't hardly breathe yesterday when the Southerners came +after fodder. I'd die if they spoke t' me. + +THADDEUS. Ye needn't be afraid of Northern soldiers. + +MARY [puts coffee pot on stove]. I hate 'em all--Union or Southern. I +can't make head or tail t' what all this fightin's 'bout. An' I don't +care who wins, so long as they git through, an' them soldiers stop +stealin' our corn an' potatoes. + +THADDEUS. Ye can't hardly blame 'em if they're hungry, ken ye? + +MARY. It ain't right that they should steal from us poor folk. [Lifts a +huge gunny sack of potatoes from the table and begins setting the +table for breakfast, getting knives, forks, spoons, plates, cups, and +saucers--two of each--from the cupboard.] We have hard 'nough times t' +make things meet now. I ain't set down onct to-day, 'cept fer meals; an' +when I think o' the work I got t' do t'morrow, I ought t' been in bed +hours ago. + +THADDEUS. I'd help if I could, but it ain't my fault if the Lord see'd +fit t' lay me up, so I'm always ailin'. [Rises lazily.] Ye better try +an' take things easy t'morrow. + +MARY. It's well 'nough t' say, but them apples got t' be picked an' +the rest o' the potatoes sorted. If I could sleep at night it'd be all +right, but with them soldiers 'bout, I can't. + +THADDEUS [crosses to right; fondly handles his double-barrelled +shot-gun]. Jolly, wish I'd see a flock o' birds. + +MARY [showing nervousness]. I'd rather go without than hear ye fire. I +wish ye didn't keep it loaded. + +THADDEUS. Ye know I ain't got time t' stop an' load when I see the +birds. They don't wait fer ye. [Hangs gun on wall, drops into his chair, +dejectedly.] Them pigs has got to be butchered. + +MARY. Wait till I git a chance t' go t' sister's. I can't stand it t' +hear 'em squeal. + +THADDEUS [pulling off his boots, grunting meanwhile]. Best go soon then, +'cause they's fat as they'll ever be, an' there ain't no use in wastin' +feed on 'em. [Pause, rises.] Ain't ye most ready fer bed? + +MARY. Go on up. + +[THADDEUS takes candle in one hand, boots in other; moves toward +stairs.] + +An', Thad, try not t' snore to-night. + +THADDEUS [reaching the landing]. Hit me if I do. [Disappears from view.] + +[MARY fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove; closes +the door back; takes the lantern from the wall, tries twice before she +succeeds in blowing it out. Puts the lantern on the table before the +cubby-hole. Drags herself up the stairs, pausing a moment on the top +step for breath before she disappears from sight. There is a silence. +Then the door back is opened a trifle and a man's hand is seen. +Cautiously the door is opened wide, and a young NORTHERN SOLDIER is +silhouetted on the threshold. He wears a dirty uniform and has a bloody +bandage tied about his head. He is wounded, sick, and exhausted. He +stands at the door a moment, listening intently; then hastily crosses +to the centre table looking for food. He bumps against the chair and +mutters an oath. Finding nothing on the table, he moves toward the +cupboard. Suddenly the galloping of horses is heard in the distance. The +NORTHERNER starts; then rushes to the window nearer the audience. For a +moment the sound ceases, then it begins again, growing gradually louder +and louder. The NORTHERNER hurries through the door left. Horses and +voices are heard, in the yard, and almost immediately heavy thundering +knocks sound on the door back. A racket is heard above stairs. The +knockers on the door grow impatient, and push the door open. A large, +powerful SOUTHERN SERGEANT and a smaller, more youthful TROOPER of +the same army enter. At the same time, THADDEUS appears on the stairs, +carrying a candle.] + +SERGEANT [to THADDEUS; not unkindly]. Sorry, my friend, but you were so +darn slow 'bout openin' the door, that we had to walk in. Has there been +a Northern soldier round here to-day? + +THADDEUS [timidly]. I ain't seed one. + +SERGEANT. Have you been here all day? + +THADDEUS. I ain't stirred from the place. + +SERGEANT. Call the rest of your family down. + +THADDEUS. My wife's all there is. [Goes to foot of stairs, and calls +loudly and excitedly.] Mary! Mary! Come down right off. + +SERGEANT. You better not lie to me or it'll go tough with you. + +THADDEUS. I swear I ain't seed no one. + +[MARY comes downstairs slowly. She is all atremble.] + +THADDEUS. Say, Mary, you was h---- + +SERGEANT. You keep still, man. I'll question her myself. [To MARY.] You +were here at the house all day? + +[MARY is very fearful and embarrassed, but after a moment manages to nod +her head slowly.] You didn't take a trip down to the store? [MARY shakes +her head slowly.] Haven't you got a tongue? + +MARY [with difficulty]. Y-e-s. + +SERGEANT. Then use it. The Northern soldier who came here a while ago +was pretty badly wounded, wasn't he? + +MARY. I--I--no one's been here. + +SERGEANT. Come, come, woman, don't lie. [MARY shows a slight sign of +anger.] He had a bad cut in his forehead, and you felt sorry for him, +and gave him a bite to eat. + +MARY [haltingly]. No one's been near the house to-day. + +SERGEANT [trying a different tone]. We're not going to hurt him, woman. +He's a friend of ours. We want to find him, and put him in a hospital, +don't we, Dick? [Turning to his companion.] + +DICK. He's sick and needs to go to bed for a while. + +MARY. He ain't here. + +SERGEANT. What do you want to lie for? + +MARY [quickly]. I ain't lyin'. I ain't seed no soldier. + +THADDEUS. No one could 'a' come without her seein' 'em. + +SERGEANT. I suppose you know what'll happen to you if you are hidin' +the man? [MARY stands rooted to the spot where she stopped when she came +downstairs. Her eyes are fixed on the SERGEANT.] + +THADDEUS. There ain't no one here. We both been here all day, an' there +couldn't no one come without our knowin' it. What would they want round +here anyway? + +SERGEANT. We'll search the place. + +MARY [quickly]. Ye ain't got no---- + +SERGEANT [sharply]. What's that, woman? + +MARY. There ain't no one here, an' ye're keepin' us from our sleep. + +SERGEANT. Your sleep? This is an affair of life and death. Get us a +lantern. + +[THADDEUS moves to the table which stands in front of the cubby-hole, +and lights the lantern from the candle which he holds in his hand. He +hands the lantern to the SERGEANT.] + +SERGEANT [seeing the door to the cubby-hole]. Ha! Tryin' to hide the +door are you, by puttin' a table in front of it. You can't fool me. [To +THADDEUS.] Pull the table away and let's see what's behind the door. + +THADDEUS. It's a cubby-hole an' ain't been opened in years. + +SERGEANT [sternly and emphatically]. I said to open the door. + +[THADDEUS sets the candle on the larger table, moves the smaller table +to the right, and opens the door to the cubby-hole. Anger is seen on +MARY'S face. The SERGEANT takes a long-barrelled revolver from his belt, +and peers into the cubby-hole. He sees nothing.] + +SERGEANT [returning his revolver to his belt]. We're goin' to tear this +place to pieces till we find him. You might just as well hand him over +now. + +MARY. There ain't no one here. + +SERGEANT. All right. Now we'll see. Dick, you stand guard at the door. + +[DICK goes to the door back, and stands gazing out into the night--his +back to the audience.] + +SERGEANT [to THADDEUS]. Come along, man. I'll have a look at the +upstairs. [To MARY.] You sit down in that chair [points to the chair at +right of table, and feeling for a sufficiently strong threat]. Don't you +stir or I'll--I'll set fire to your house. [To THADDEUS.] Go on ahead. + +[THADDEUS and the SERGEANT go upstairs. MARY sinks almost lifelessly +into the chair. She is the picture of fear. She sits facing left. +Suddenly she leans forward. The door left is being opened. She opens her +eyes wide and draws her breath sharply. She opens her mouth as though +she would scream, but makes no sound. The NORTHERNER comes slowly and +cautiously through the door. (DICK cannot see him because of the jog in +the wall.) MARY only stares in bewilderment at the NORTHERNER, as +the man, with eyes fixed appealingly on her, opens the door to the +cubby-hole and crawls inside.] + +DICK. Woman! + +MARY [almost with a cry--thinking that DICK has seen the NORTHERNER]. +Yes. + +DICK. Have you got an apple handy? I'm starved. [MARY moves to the +cupboard to get the apple for DICK. The SERGEANT and THADDEUS come +downstairs. The SERGEANT, seeing that MARY is not where he left her, +looks about quickly and discovers her at the cupboard.] + +SERGEANT. Here, what'd I tell you I'd do if you moved from that chair? + +MARY [with great fear]. Oh, I didn't--I only--he wanted---- + +DICK. It's all right, Sergeant. I asked her to get me an apple. + +SERGEANT. Dick, take this lantern and search the barn. [DICK takes the +lantern from the SERGEANT and goes out back.] [To THADDEUS.] Come in +here with me. [Takes the candle from centre table.] [The SERGEANT and +THADDEUS move toward the door left. As though in a stupor, MARY starts +to follow.] Sit down! [MARY falls into the chair at the right of the +centre table. The SERGEANT and THADDEUS go into the room at left. They +can be heard moving furniture about. MARY'S eyes fall on a pin on the +floor. She bends over, picks it up, and fastens it in her belt. The +SERGEANT and THADDEUS return.] + +SERGEANT. If I find him now, after all the trouble you've given me, +you know what'll happen. There's likely to be two dead men and a woman, +instead of only the Yankee. + +DICK [bounding into the room]. Sergeant! + +SERGEANT. What is it? [DICK hurries to the SERGEANT and says something +in a low voice to him. Satisfaction shows on the latter's face.] + +SERGEANT. Now my good people, how did that horse get here? + +THADDEUS. What horse? + + +DICK. There's a horse in the barn with a saddle on his back. I swear +he's been ridden lately. + +THADDEUS [amazed]. There is? + +SERGEANT. You know it. [To MARY.] Come, woman, who drove that horse +here? + +MARY [silent for a moment--her eyes on the floor]. I don't know. I +didn't hear nothin'. + +THADDEUS [moving in the direction of the door back]. Let me go an' see. + +SERGEANT [pushing THADDEUS back]. No, you don't. You two have done +enough to justify the harshest measures. Show us the man's hiding-place. + +THADDEUS. If there's anybody here, he's come in the night without our +knowin' it. I tell ye I didn't see anybody, an' she didn't, an'---- + +SERGEANT [has been watching MARY]. Where is he? [The SERGEANT'S tone +makes THADDEUS jump. There is a pause, during which MARY seems trying +to compose herself. Then slowly, she lifts her eyes and looks at the +SERGEANT.] + +MARY. There ain't nobody in the house 'cept us two. + +SERGEANT [to DICK]. Did you search all the outbuildings? + +DICK. Yes. There's not a trace of him except the horse. + +SERGEANT [wiping the perspiration from his face; speaks with apparent +deliberation at first, but increases to great strength and emphasis]. He +didn't have much of a start of us, and I think he was wounded. A farmer +down the road said he heard hoof-beats. The man the other side of you +heard nothing, and the horse is in your barn. [Slowly draws revolver, +and points it at THADDEUS.] There are ways of making people confess. + +THADDEUS [covering his face with his hands]. For God's sake, don't. I +know that horse looks bad--but as I live I ain't heard a sound, or seen +anybody. I'd give the man up in a minute if he was here. + +SERGEANT [lowering his gun]. Yes, I guess you would. You wouldn't want +me to hand you and your wife over to our army to be shot down like dogs. +[MARY shivers.] [Swings round sharply, and points the gun at MARY.] Your +wife knows where he's hid. + +MARY [breaking out in irritating, rasping voice]. I'm sure I wish I did. +An' I'd tell ye quick, an' git ye out of here. 'Tain't no fun fer me to +have ye prowlin' all over my house. Ye ain't got no right t' torment me +like this. Lord knows how I'll git my day's work done, if I can't have +my sleep. + +SERGEANT [has been gazing at her in astonishment; lowers his gun]. Good +God, what a clod! Nothing but her own petty existence. [In different +voice to MARY.] I'll have to ask you to get us something to eat. We're +famished. [With relief, but showing some anger, MARY turns to the stove. +She lights the fire, and puts more coffee in the pot.] + +SERGEANT. Come, Dick, we better give our poor horses some water. They're +all tired out. [In lower voice.] The man isn't here. If he were, he +couldn't get away while we're in the yard. [To THADDEUS.] Get us a pail +to give the horses some water. [Sees the pails on the bench. Picks one +of them up and moves toward the door.] + +MARY. That ain't the horses' pail. + +SERGEANT [to THADDEUS]. Come along, you can help. + +MARY [louder]. That's the drinkin' water pail. + +SERGEANT. That's all right. + +[The SERGEANT, DICK, and THADDEUS go out back. MARY needs more wood for +the fire, so she follows them in a moment. When she has disappeared, +the NORTHERNER drags himself from the cubby-hole. He looks as though he +would fall with exhaustion. MARY returns with an armful of wood.] + +MARY [sees the NORTHERNER. Shows no sympathy for the man in this speech, +nor during the entire scene]. Ye git back! Them soldiers'll see ye. + +NORTHERNER. Some water. Quick. [Falls into chair at left of table.] It +was so hot in there. + +MARY [gives him water in the dipper]. Don't ye faint here. If them +soldiers git ye, they'll kill me an' Thad. Hustle an' git back in the +cubby-hole. [MARY turns quickly to the stove. The NORTHERNER drinks the +water; puts dipper on table, then, summoning all his strength, rises and +crosses to MARY. He touches her on the shoulder. MARY is so startled, +that she jumps and utters a faint cry.] + +NORTHERNER. Be still, or they'll hear you. How are you going to get me +out of this? + +MARY [angrily]. Ye git out. Why did ye come here, a-bringin' me all this +extra work, an' maybe death? + +NORTHERNER. I couldn't go any farther. My horse and I were both near +dropping. Won't you help me? + +MARY. No, I won't. I don't know who ye are or nothin' 'bout ye, 'cept +that them men want t' ketch ye. [In a changed tone of curiosity.] Did ye +steal somethin' from 'em? + +NORTHERNER. Don't you understand? Those men belong to the Confederacy, +and I'm a Northerner. They've been chasing me all day. [Pulling a bit +of crumpled paper from his breast.] They want this paper. If they get it +before to-morrow morning it will mean the greatest disaster that's ever +come to the Union army. + +MARY [with frank curiosity]. Was it ye rode by yesterday? + +NORTHERNER. Don't you see what you can do? Get me out of here and away +from those men, and you'll have done more than any soldier could do for +the country--for your country. + +MARY. I ain't got no country. Me an' Thad's only got this farm. Thad's +ailin', an' I do most the work, an'---- + +NORTHERNER. The lives of thirty thousand men hang by a thread. I must +save them. And you must help me. + +MARY. I don't know nothin' 'bout ye, an' I don't know what ye're talkin' +'bout. + +NORTHERNER. Only help me get away. + +MARY [angrily]. No one ever helped me or Thad. I lift no finger in this +business. Why ye come here in the first place is beyond me--sneakin' +round our house, spoilin' our well-earned sleep. If them soldiers ketch +ye, they'll kill me an' Thad. Maybe ye didn't know that. + +NORTHERNER. What's your life and your husband's compared to thirty +thousand! I haven't any money or I'd give it to you. + +MARY. I don't want yer money. + +NORTHERNER. What do you want? + +MARY. I want ye t' git away. I don't care what happens t' ye. Only git +out of here. + +NORTHERNER. I can't with the Southerners in the yard. They'd shoot me +like a dog. Besides, I've got to have my horse. + +MARY [with naive curiosity]. What kind o' lookin' horse is it? + +NORTHERNER [dropping into chair at left of centre table in disgust and +despair]. O God! If I'd only turned in at the other farm. I might have +found people with red blood. [Pulls out his gun, and hopelessly opens +the empty chamber.] + +MARY [alarmed]. What ye goin' t' do with that gun? + +NORTHERNER. Don't be afraid. It's not load---- + +MARY. I'd call 'em in, if I wasn't---- + +NORTHERNER [leaping to the wall left and bracing himself against it]. +Go call them in. Save your poor skin and your husband's if you can. Call +them in. You can't save yourself. [Laughs hysterically.] You can't save +your miserable skin. Cause if they get me, and don't shoot you, I will. + +MARY [leans against left side of centre table for support; in agony]. +Oh! + +NORTHERNER. You see, you've got to help me whether you want to or not. + +MARY [feeling absolutely caught]. I ain't done nothin'. I don't see why +ye an' them others come here a threatenin' t' shoot me. I don't want +nothin'. I don't want t' do nothin'. I jest want ye all t' git out a +here an' leave me an' Thad t' go t' sleep. Oh, I don't know what t' do. +Ye got me in a corner where I can't move. [Passes her hand back along +the table. Touches the dipper accidentally, and it falls to the floor. +Screams at the sound.] + +NORTHERNER [leaping toward her]. Now you've done it. They'll be here +in a minute. You can't give me up. They'll shoot you if you do. They'll +shoot. [Hurries up the stairs, and disappears from sight.] + +[MARY stands beside the table, trembling terribly. The SERGEANT, DICK, +and THADDEUS come running in.] + +SERGEANT. What did you yell for? [No answer.] [Seizing her by the arm.] +Answer! + +MARY. I knocked the dipper off the table. It scared me. + +SERGEANT [dropping wearily into chair at left of centre table]. Well, +don't drop our breakfast. Put it on the table. We're ready. + +MARY [stands gazing at him]. It ain't finished. + +OFFICER [worn out by his day's work and MARY'S stupidity, from now on +absolutely brutish]. You've had time to cook a dozen meals. You're as +slow as a snail. What did you do all the time we were in the barn? + +MARY. I didn't do nothin'. + +SERGEANT. You lazy female. Now get a move on, and give us something fit +to eat. Don't try to get rid of any left-overs on us. If you do, you'll +suffer for it. + +[MARY stands looking at him.] Don't you know anything, you brainless +farm-drudge? Hurry, I said. + +[MARY turns to the stove. THADDEUS sits in chair at left of smaller +table.] + +DICK. What a night. My stomach's as hollow as these people's heads. +[Takes towel which hangs above the bench and wipes the barrel of his gun +with it.] + +MARY [sees DICK]. That's one of my best towels. + +DICK. Can't help it. + +SERGEANT. 'Tend to the breakfast. That's enough for you to do at one +time. + +[DICK puts his gun on the smaller table, and sits at right of centre +table.] + +SERGEANT [quietly to DICK]. I don't see how he gave us the slip. + +DICK. He knew we were after him, and drove his horse in here, and went +on afoot. Clever scheme, I must admit. + +THADDEUS [endeavoring to get them into conversation]. Have ye rid far +to-night, misters? + +DICK [shortly]. Far enough. + +THADDEUS. Twenty miles or so? + +DICK. Perhaps. + +THADDEUS. How long ye been chasin' the critter? + +SERGEANT. Shut up, man! Don't you see we don't want to talk to you. Take +hold and hurry, woman. My patience's at an end. + +[MARY puts a loaf of bread, some fried eggs, and a coffee pot on the +table.] + +MARY. There! I hope ye're satisfied. + +[The SERGEANT and DICK pull their chairs to the table, and begin to +eat.] + +SERGEANT. Is this all we get? Come, it won't do you any good to be +stingy. [Obviously, from now on, everything the SERGEANT says drives +MARY nearer madness.] + +MARY. It's all I got. + +SERGEANT. It isn't a mouthful for a chickadee! Give us some butter. + +MARY. There ain't none. + +SERGEANT. No butter on a farm? God, the way you lie! + +MARY. I-- + +SERGEANT. Shut up! + +DICK. Have you got any cider? + +SERGEANT. Don't ask. She and the man probably drank themselves stupid on +it. [Throws fork on floor.] I never struck such a place in my life. Get +me another fork. How do you expect me to eat with that bent thing? + +[MARY stoops with difficulty and picks up the fork. Gets another from +the cupboard and gives it to the SERGEANT.] + +SERGEANT. Now give us some salt. Don't you know that folks eat it on +eggs? + +[MARY crosses to the cupboard; mistakes the pepper for the salt, and +puts it on the table.] + +SERGEANT [sprinkles pepper on his food]. I said salt, woman! [Spelling.] +S-A-L-T. Salt! Salt! + +[MARY goes to the cupboard; returns to the table with the salt. Almost +ready to drop, she drags herself to the window nearer back, and leans +against it, watching the SOUTHERNERS like a hunted animal. THADDEUS sits +nodding in the corner. The SERGEANT and DICK go on devouring the food. +The SERGEANT pours the coffee. Puts his cup to his lips, takes one +swallow; then, jumping to his feet and upsetting his chair as he does +so, he hurls his cup to the floor. The crash of china stirs THADDEUS. +MARY shakes in terror.] + +SERGEANT [bellowing and pointing to the fluid trickling on the floor]. +Have you tried to poison us, you God damn hag? + +[MARY screams, and the faces of the men turn white. It is like the cry +of the animal goaded beyond endurance.] + +MARY [screeching]. Call my coffee poison, will ye? Call me a hag? I'll +learn ye! I'm a woman, and ye're drivin' me crazy. [Snatches the +gun from the wall, points it at the SERGEANT, and fires. Keeps on +screeching. The SERGEANT falls to the floor. DICK rushes for his gun.] + +THADDEUS. Mary! Mary! + +MARY [aiming at DICK, and firing]. I ain't a hag, I'm a woman, but ye're +killin' me. + +[DICK falls just as he reaches his gun. THADDEUS is in the corner with +his hands over his ears. The NORTHERNER stands on the stairs. MARY +continues to pull the trigger of the empty gun. The NORTHERNER is +motionless for a moment; then he goes to THADDEUS, and shakes him.] + +NORTHERNER. Go get my horse, quick! + +[THADDEUS obeys. The NORTHERNER turns to MARY. She gazes at him, but +does not understand a word he says.] + +NORTHERNER [with great fervor]. I'm ashamed of what I said. The whole +country will hear of this, and you. [Takes her hand, and presses it to +his lips; then turns and hurries out of the house. MARY still holds the +gun in her hand. She pushes a strand of gray hair back from her face, +and begins to pick up the fragments of the broken coffee cup.] + +MARY [in dead, flat tone]. I'll have to drink out the tin cup now. + +[The hoof-beats of the NORTHERNER'S horse are heard.] + +Curtain. + + + + +II. EUGENICALLY SPEAKING + +A One-Act Play + +By Edward Goodman + +Copyright, 1914, by Edward Goodman + +"Eugenically Speaking" was produced by the Washington Square Players, +under the direction of Philip Moeller, as part of their first program at +the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, beginning February 19, 1915. + +In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the following: + + UNA BRAITHEWAITE. Florence Enright + GEORGE COXEY. Karl Karsten + MR. BRAITHEWAITE. George C. Somnes + JARVIS a manservant Ralph Roeder + +The scene was designed by Engelbert Gminska and Miss Enright's costume +by Mrs. Edward Flammer. + +"Eugenically Speaking" was subsequently revived by the Washington Square +Players at the Comedy Theatre, New York City, beginning August 30, 1916. +In this production Arthur Hohl played the part of George Coxey; Robert +Strange, Wm. Braithewaite; and Spalding Hall, Jarvis. + + +CHARACTERS + + UNA. A girl + GEORGE COXEY. A conductor + MR. BRAITHEWAITE. A financier + JARVIS. A butler + + +TIME: Between to-day and to-morrow. + +SCENE: A room in the Braithewaite mansion, richly but tastefully +furnished. Among these furnishings it is necessary for the play to note, +besides the door at the back, only the table that stands a little to the +right of the centre of the room, with a statue on it, and three chairs +which stand, one to the right, one to the left, and one in the middle. +It is a winter afternoon, and the room is illuminated by invisible +lights. + +Enter UNA, followed by GEORGE COXEY. UNA is a charming, fashionable +girl of twenty with a suave blend of will and poise. GEORGE COXEY is a +handsome, well-built, magnetic-looking youth of about twenty-five. He is +dressed in the garb of a street-car conductor and carries the cap in his +hand. Although somewhat inconvenienced and preoccupied with the novelty +of his surroundings and his situation, he remains, in the main, in +excellent self-possession, an occasional twinkle in his eye showing that +he is even quietly alive to a certain humor in the adventure. Above all, +his attitude is that rare one, which we like to feel typical of American +youth, of facing an unusual situation firmly, and seeing and grasping +its possibilities quickly. + +He stands near the door, waiting, examining the room and warming his +hands, while UNA goes to the bell and rings it and then proceeds to the +mirror to primp a little. When she is finished she turns and notices +him. + +UNA. Why, my dear man, sit down. [She points to a chair at the right.] + +GEORGE. Thanks, after you. + +UNA [laughs]. Oh! Excuse me. I forgot. You're a car conductor. Naturally +you're polite. + +GEORGE. Not naturally, Miss. But I've learned. + +UNA. An apt pupil, too. Let me teach you then that the ruder you are to +a woman, the more she'll hate you--or love you. [She goes up to him and +invites him with a gesture.] Sit down. + +[GEORGE remains immobile.] The polite are not only bourgeois, they're +boring. + +GEORGE. When I know I'm right, I stick to it. + +UNA. But you must grow tired of standing. + +GEORGE. If I did, I'd lose my job. + +UNA. You have already. Sit down. + +GEORGE [firmly]. After you. + +UNA [taking the chair, centre, and sitting on it]. You're splendid. Now! + +[GEORGE sits in the offered chair a little stiffly.] + +UNA. Isn't that better than ringing up fares? + +GEORGE [smiling at his attempt at a pun]. Fairly. + +UNA [rising, perturbed]. No! You mustn't do that. That's vulgar. + +GEORGE [rising in alarm]. What have I done? + +UNA [vexed again]. Sit down. You mustn't jump up when I do. [He remains +standing. Vexed but smiling she sits.] Well, there! [He sits down.] You +punned! You mustn't. We all like puns, but it's good form to call them +bad taste. + +[Enter JARVIS the Butler.] + +JARVIS [starts slightly at perceiving the situation, but controls +himself]. Did you ring for me, Miss? + +UNA. Yes. Please tell my father that I'd like to see him at once. + +[JARVIS goes out.] + +UNA. Do you know the reason that you are here? + +GEORGE. The hundred dollars you gave me. + +UNA. No---- + +GEORGE. Yes. I wouldn't have left my job if you hadn't given me that. + +UNA. I suppose not. But I mean, do you know why I brought you here? + +GEORGE. I'm waiting to see. + +UNA [enthusiastically]. I wonder if you'll like it. + +GEORGE. Your father? + +UNA. No. Dad's a dear. That is, he is when he sees you mean business. + +[Enter MR. BRAITHEWAITE. He is a well-preserved man near sixty, almost +always completely master of himself. On seeing COXEY he, too, gives a +little start and then controls himself.] + +BRAITHEWAITE. Una, dear? + +UNA [jumping up in excitement]. Oh, Daddy! I'm so glad you were in. [To +GEORGE who has risen, too.] Keep your seat. Draw up a chair, Dad--I've +done it. + +BRAITHEWAITE. Done what? + +UNA [bringing up a chair and placing it to her right]. Do sit down, Dad. +He's so delicious. He won't sit down till we do--and you know how much +they have to stand. + +BRAITHEWAITE [looks at GEORGE and UNA and then sits in the chair +allotted to him, whereupon UNA sits in hers and then GEORGE sits down]. +Now, dear, what is it you have done? + +UNA. Selected a husband. + +[GEORGE moves a little uneasily. BRAITHEWAITE looks at GEORGE and then +speaks to UNA.] + +BRAITHEWAITE. You mean? + +UNA [pointing to GEORGE]. Him! [GEORGE rises in discomfiture.] Do sit +down. We're all sitting now, you see. [GEORGE brings himself to sit down +again.] + +BRAITHEWAITE. But, my dear---- + +UNA. Now don't say a word until you hear the whole story. You read that +article by Shaw in the Metropolitan, didn't you? I did. You remember +what he wrote? "The best eugenic guide is the sex attraction--the Voice +of Nature." He thinks the trouble is at present that we dare not marry +out of our own sphere. But I'll show you exactly what he says. [She +fusses in her handbag and pulls out a sheet of a magazine which she +unfolds as she says:] I always carry the article with me. It's so +stimulating. + +BRAITHEWAITE [protesting]. You're not going to read me a whole Shaw +article, are you? It's five o'clock now and we've a dinner date at +eight, dear. + +UNA. It's a Shaw article, not a Shaw preface. However, I'll only read +the passage I've marked. Listen. [She reads.] "I do not believe you will +ever have any improvement in the human race until you greatly widen +the area of possible sexual selection; until you make it as wide as +the numbers of the community make it. Just consider what occurs at the +present time. I walk down Oxford Street, let me say, as a young man." He +might just as well have said, "young woman," you know. + +BRAITHEWAITE. And? + +UNA [continues reading], "I see a woman who takes my fancy." With me it +would be a man, of course. + +BRAITHEWAITE. For your purpose, of course. + +UNA [continuing again]. "I fall in love with her. It would seem very +sensible in an intelligent community that I should take off my hat and +say to this lady: 'Will you excuse me; but you attract me strongly, +and if you are not already engaged, would you mind taking my name +and address and considering whether you would care to marry me?' +[BRAITHEWAITE looks uncomfortably at GEORGE who looks uncomfortable, +though amused, himself.] Now I have no such chance at present." + +BRAITHEWAITE. Exactly. You see, he admits it. + +UNA. Yes, but why shouldn't I have the chance? That set me thinking. I +decided he was right. I am intelligent, am I not? + +BRAITHEWAITE. I refuse to commit myself, dear, until I hear all your +story. + +UNA. Well, I decided I'd make the chance. You see, I--I've been led to +think recently that I ought to be getting married. + +BRAITHEWAITE. May I ask why? + +UNA. Yes, dear, but I'd rather not answer. + +BRAITHEWAITE. I beg pardon. + +UNA. And when I looked about me for the possibilities in my own set, +I--[she makes a face]--well, I wasn't attracted. + +BRAITHEWAITE. I admit, in society, as a rule, the women grow stronger +and the men weaker. + +UNA. Exactly. And I knew you wanted to be a proud grandfather. + +BRAITHEWAITE. You're mistaken, dear. I hadn't given the subject any +thought; so I had no desires. + +UNA. Well, I have... [BRAITHEWAITE slightly shows that he is perhaps +shocked. UNA notices this and continues in explanation] given the +subject a good deal of thought. I've spent days buying second-hand +clothing to give away at the missions and lodging houses in order to +have a look. + +BRAITHEWAITE. At least there was charity in that. + +UNA. Yes. You see I didn't want charity to have to begin at my home. +Self-preservation is the first law of Nature. + +BRAITHEWAITE. And self-propagation, I suppose, the second. + +UNA. Well--the missions were no good. They were all so starved and +pinched-looking there I couldn't tell what they'd be like if they got +proper nourishment. And I didn't want to take a chance. So I went to +some coal yards. + +BRAITHEWAITE. To find the devil not so black as painted? + +UNA [with a grimace]. Blacker! I couldn't see what they looked like. Of +course if I could have asked them to wash their faces. + +BRAITHEWAITE [looking at GEORGE]. Considering what you have done, I +don't see---- + +UNA. I did ask one, but he made some vulgar remark about black dirt and +red paint. So I left him. + +BRAITHEWAITE. And then? + +UNA. I spent all to-day riding up and down town in street cars. It's +very fascinating, Dad. All you can see for a nickel! I never realized +what a public benefactor you were. + +BRAITHEWAITE [modestly]. Oh, I am amply repaid. + +UNA [in explanation to GEORGE]. Dad's the president of your traction +company, you know. [GEORGE rises in fright.] Oh, that's all right. I've +lost you your job, but I'll get you a better one as I promised. Don't be +afraid of Dad--in the parlor. Sit down. + +BRAITHEWAITE [to GEORGE]. You might as well make yourself physically +comfortable, you know. There's no telling how my daughter may make us +feel in other ways. + +[GEORGE sits down again, regaining his composure a little.] + +BRAITHEWAITE [to UNA]. And so to-day you investigated travelling in +street cars? + +UNA. Yes. "Joy-riding," you know. Then I saw him--and decided. I knew he +wouldn't dare to propose to me--under existing conditions. + +BRAITHEWAITE. So you asked him to marry you? + +UNA. Certainly not. I've too much consideration for you, dear. + +BRAITHEWAITE. But I thought you said----? + +UNA. I decided to bring him home to get your consent first. +[BRAITHEWAITE starts to say something.] I knew you'd approve when you +saw him. But I wanted to be sure I hadn't overlooked anything. And if +I had, I didn't want to have raised his hopes for nothing. [To GEORGE.] +Would you mind standing a moment, now, until Dad looks you over? + +[GEORGE fidgets a little in embarrassment.] + +BRAITHEWAITE. My dear, do you think the gentleman----? + +UNA. "Gentleman!" Oh, yes, I forgot. I needn't have been so clumsy. +[She rises. GEORGE rises automatically. She continues to GEORGE.] I +apologize. + +BRAITHEWAITE [also rising and moving his chair aside]. I fear you have +been too rude. + +UNA. So do I. I've never even introduced you. Father, this is--this +is---- [To GEORGE.] By the way--I forgot to ask--what is your name? + +GEORGE. Coxey, Miss. + +UNA [sounding it]. Coxey. What's the first name? I can't call my husband +"Coxey," you know. + +GEORGE. George, Miss. + +UNA [triumphantly]. George! There's a fine virile name for you. George +Coxey! How strong that sounds! One of those names that would go equally +well in the blue book or the police blotter. + +GEORGE. I never---- + +UNA. Don't disclaim. I know you've never been arrested. One can see your +goodness in your face. + +BRAITHEWAITE [reprovingly]. Many of the best people go to jail now, +dear. + +UNA. I know. But he's not rich and thank heaven he's not a fanatic. +Isn't he good-looking? And I'm sure he's strong. See those hands of +his--a little rough, of course, but I like that, and so firm and, for +his job, wonderfully clean. Don't hide them, George. They attracted me +from the start. + +BRAITHEWAITE. How did you come here with my daughter at all, sir? + +UNA [quickly]. I got off with him at the car barn when he finished his +run and asked him. + +BRAITHEWAITE. Didn't you know you would lose your job by leaving that +way? + +GEORGE [with a suppressed smile]. Yes, sir. + +BRAITHEWAITE. And you came at any rate? + +GEORGE. You see, sir, she gave me---- + +UNA [interrupting hurriedly]. A beseeching look. Just one. I didn't use +more than was necessary. [Pointedly to GEORGE.] You see, George, I have +learnt economy from father. He hates me to be extravagant. + +BRAITHEWAITE. That, my dear, is the chief objection I have to this +episode--it's extravagance. + +UNA. Please don't call it an "episode," father. + +BRAITHEWAITE. You must admit it's--rather unusual. + +UNA. In England, lords always marry chorus girls. + +BRAITHEWAITE. But he is a conductor. + +GEORGE [angry]. Yes. And conductors are---- + +UNA. As hard working as chorus girls--only. Don't be snobbish, George. +Of course a conductor is more unusual, I admit. I can't help that +though---- [To her father.] You shouldn't have called me "Una," if you +didn't want me to be unique. + +BRAITHEWAITE [reminiscently]. That was most unfortunate--most. It was +your mother's idea. She believed in symbols--and in a small family. + +UNA. Oh! Was that why----? Well, no matter. I've always thought it meant +individuality and I've done my best to live up to it. [She looks at the +statue.] That statue ought to be on the other side of the room. + +BRAITHEWAITE. I'll have some of the men move it to-morrow. + +UNA. I'd like to see the effect now. + +BRAITHEWAITE [slightly annoyed at this seeming irrelevance]. I wish I +could teach you concentration. I'm not strong enough to move it myself, +dear, and---- + +GEORGE. Can I? + +BRAITHEWAITE. Why-- + +UNA. Oh! If you would! + +[GEORGE goes over to it and then hesitates what to do with his cap which +he has in his hand.] + +UNA. I'll take that. + +GEORGE [giving it to her]. Thanks. [He bends and lifts the statue +without effort, while UNA watches him admiringly, fingering his cap. +When he reaches the other side of the room he stops, waveringly, +awaiting instructions.] + +UNA [talking as GEORGE waits]. Look at him. He's as fine as the statue, +isn't he? And you know what you think of that. See the strength he has? + +BRAITHEWAITE. Well---- + +UNA [to GEORGE]. Thank you so much. You may put it back again. That was +all I wanted. [After GEORGE has.] I hope I didn't overtax you. + +GEORGE. Oh, it ain't very heavy. + +UNA [triumphantly to her father]. You see! + +BRAITHEWAITE. But he uses "ain't." + +UNA [imitating the reproof of her father]. Many of the best people use +"ain't" now, dear. + +BRAITHEWAITE. Not with his enunciation. + +UNA. What was yours like when you were a railroad signalman? + +BRAITHEWAITE. Una! The past of a public man should be private. + +UNA. George has our children's future before him. All the others I know +have only their parents' past behind. You could give him a job suitable +for my husband. I'll make my husband suitable for the job. + +BRAITHEWAITE. But you don't know him, my dear. + +UNA. I don't know myself for that matter. If I don't like him, it's easy +enough to go to Reno. + +BRAITHEWAITE. Then you insist? + +UNA. I'm tremendously eager. It's so unusual. + +BRAITHEWAITE. I suppose I could sue Shaw. + +UNA. Don't be silly. Sue an Englishman with German sympathies! Where's +your neutrality? + +BRAITHEWAITE [sinking into a chair]. Very well. + +UNA [running up to GEORGE with delight]. Then it's settled, dear. We're +going to marry. + +GEORGE. Excuse me, Miss, we ain't. + +BRAITHEWAITE [shocked]. "Ain't" again! + +UNA [correcting]. "Aren't," dear--I mean, we are. + +GEORGE. Not. + +UNA [backing away]. Why not? + +GEORGE. Because--I'm married already. + +BRAITHEWAITE [rising]. What? + +UNA. How annoying! + +GEORGE. Married three years, and expecting a baby, Miss. + +UNA [troubled]. Oh, please! + +BRAITHEWAITE. You see what plunging means. I told you I believed in +eugenic examinations first. + +UNA [walking up and down, thinking]. Sh! Be quiet, father. Don't lose +your head. + +BRAITHEWAITE. Better than losing your heart. + +UNA [laughing]. I have it. Of course. How stupid of me not to think. +George. + +GEORGE. Yes, Miss. + +BRAITHEWAITE. Wouldn't you better call him "Mr. Coxey" now? + +UNA [paying no heed to her father's remark]. George, you must divorce +your wife. + +GEORGE. Me? Why she's as good as gold and---- + +UNA. That's unfortunate. [Thinking.] Then I'll have to run away with you +and let her get the divorce. + +BRAITHEWAITE [now really shocked]. Una! + +UNA [innocently]. What, Dad? Have you something better to suggest? + +BRAITHEWAITE [fuming]. I can't permit it. I didn't mind the uncommon +scandal of your marrying a car conductor, but I absolutely draw the line +at common scandal. + +UNA [a little bored]. Father, dear, why will you sometimes talk to me +as though I were the Public Service Commission? There's going to be no +scandal. You can keep it out of the newspapers. + +GEORGE. Excuse me, but that don't make any difference. I don't want to +get a divorce. + +UNA. You don't? Why? + +GEORGE [embarrassed]. Sounds like a song, I know, but--I love my wife. + +UNA [in despair]. And you're the unusual man I'm to marry. + +BRAITHEWAITE [with the contempt of a professional toward an amateur]. +Stealing nickels doesn't develop the imagination. + +UNA [desperately]. How can you love your wife? Some simple, economizing, +prosaic, hausfrau who---- + +GEORGE [with spirit]. I don't know what you're saying, but you better be +careful not to insult my wife. She's as good as you are and a rector's +daughter. + +UNA [dumbfounded]. What? + +GEORGE. Yes. Daughter of one of the biggest sky-pilots in town. I met +her at a settlement house. She put the question to me, too. + +UNA [angry and doubting]. She----? + +GEORGE. Sure. I've been through something like this before or I'd never +been able to stand it so well. + +UNA [as before]. Your wife----? + +GEORGE. Had a good deal more pluck than you, though. Up and told her +father she would marry me if he liked it or lumped it. He said he'd cut +her. And he did. We never seen him since. But Naomi and I don't care. +That's her name; so you can see she's a Bible-poacher's daughter. Naomi +and I've been happier than any people on earth. [Sternly.] She's taught +me to stand when a lady was standing. That's why I wouldn't obey you. +She's teaching me how to speak, too, and if I do say "ain't" and a +lot of other things I oughtn't to when I'm excited, that ai--isn't her +fault. + +UNA. Then she--Naomi--has done everything unusual that I wanted to do, +before I did? + +GEORGE. Sure. You can't be unusual to-day. Too much brains been in the +world before. + +UNA. How is it I never heard this story, if her father's so well known? + +GEORGE. D'you think your father's the only one can keep things out of +the papers? + +UNA [going over and weeping on her father's shoulder]. Oh! And I wanted +to be unique. + +BRAITHEWAITE [patting her]. There, there, dear. [To GEORGE.] You'd +better go, now, Coxey. + +GEORGE. And my job? + +BRAITHEWAITE. I'll see you still keep it. + +GEORGE. Thanks. I don't want to. + +BRAITHEWAITE. No? + +GEORGE. I want a better. + +BRAITHEWAITE [putting his daughter aside]. Indeed! Pray what? + +GEORGE [nonchalantly]. Superintendent or something. I leave it to you. +You know more about what jobs there are than I do. + +BRAITHEWAITE [controlling his anger]. And on what basis do you ask for a +better job? + +GEORGE. Naomi always said my chance would come and I could take it, if I +had nerve and my eyes open. I think now's the time. + +BRAITHEWAITE. Why? + +GEORGE. Oh, this story about your daughter wouldn't look nice. + +UNA. Oh! + +BRAITHEWAITE. You forget the power your father-in-law and I have in the +press. + +GEORGE. No, I don't. But I remember that you can't keep me from +spreading the news among your men. And I don't think---- + +BRAITHEWAITE [angry and advancing on him]. I could have you prosecuted +for blackmail, sir. Have you no honor? + +GEORGE. Sure. My honor says provide for your family. I've got the +makings of a big man in me, Mr. Braithewaite. You can't chain me down +with a poor man's morals. + +BRAITHEWAITE. Well! I---- + +GEORGE. I'll work in any job you give me, too. I'm not asking for a +cinch, only a chance. If she-- [pointing to UNA]--could teach me, Naomi +can. + +BRAITHEWAITE [after a pause]. Well, call around at my office in the +morning. + +GEORGE. Thanks. [He goes out.] + +UNA [sitting to weep]. And I thought I could be unusual. + +BRAITHEWAITE [patting her]. It's easy enough for Shaw, dear. He only +writes it. + +UNA [jumping up]. That's it. I'll write it. I'll write a play showing +it's useless trying to escape the usual. [Running up to her father, +GEORGE'S cap in her hands.] That will be unusual, won't it, Dad? + +[Reenter GEORGE.] + +GEORGE. Excuse me. I left my cap. + +UNA [stretching it out to him without looking at him]. Here it is. + +GEORGE [taking it]. Thanks. [Approaching her.] Buck up, Miss! You meant +well. + +UNA. I suppose I was too daring. + +GEORGE. If you ask me, I think the trouble was you and that Shaw fellow +wasn't daring enough. Marriage is a very particular sort of business. +Now if you'd come up to me in the street and just asked me to---- [UNA +and BRAITHEWAITE look at GEORGE.] Well--I--I guess I'll go. But remember +my tip next try, Miss. + +[He goes out quickly, leaving UNA gradually grasping the idea and +appreciating it, while her father's shock at what GEORGE has said is +increased only by noticing his daughter's reception of the words.] + +Curtain. + + + + +III. OVERTONES + +A One-Act Play + +By Alice Gerstenberg + +Author of "Unquenched Fire," "The Conscience of Sarah Platt," and +Dramatization of "Alice in Wonderland," etc. + +Copyright, 1913, by Alice Gerstenberg + +"Overtones" was produced by the Washington Square Players under the +direction of Edward Goodman at the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, +beginning November 8, 1915, to represent an American one-act play on a +bill of four comparative comedies, "Literature" by Arthur Schnitzler of +Austria, "The Honorable Lover" by Roberto Bracco of Italy, and "Whims" +by Alfred de Musset of France. In the cast were the following: + + HETTY. Josephine A. Meyer + HARRIET, her overtone. Agnes McCarthy + MAGGIE. Noel Haddon + MARGARET, her overtone. Grace Griswold + +The scene was designed by Lee Simonson and the costumes and draperies by +Bertha Holley. + +"Overtones" was subsequently presented in vaudeville by Martin Beck, +beginning at the Palace Theatre, Chicago, February 28, 1916, with Helena +Lackaye as star, with the following cast: + + HARRIET, a cultured woman Helene Lackaye + HETTY, her primitive self. Ursula Faucett + MARGARET, a cultured woman Francesca Rotoli + MAGGIE, her primitive self. Nellie Dent + +The scene was designed by Jerome Blum. + + +CHARACTERS + + HARRIET, a cultured woman + HETTY, her primitive self + MARGARET, a cultured woman + MAGGIE, her primitive self + +TIME: The present. + +SCENE: HARRIET'S fashionable living-room. The door at the back leads +to the hall. In the centre a tea table with a chair either side. At the +back a cabinet. + +HARRIET'S gown is a light, "jealous" green. Her counterpart, HETTY, +wears a gown of the same design but in a darker shade. MARGARET wears a +gown of lavender chiffon while her counterpart, MAGGIE, wears a gown of +the same design in purple, a purple scarf veiling her face. Chiffon is +used to give a sheer effect, suggesting a possibility of primitive +and cultured selves merging into one woman. The primitive and cultured +selves never come into actual physical contact but try to sustain the +impression of mental conflict. HARRIET never sees HETTY, never talks to +her but rather thinks aloud looking into space. HETTY, however, looks at +HARRIET, talks intently and shadows her continually. The same is true of +MARGARET and MAGGIE. The voices of the cultured women are affected +and lingering, the voices of the primitive impulsive and more or less +staccato. When the curtain rises HARRIET is seated right of tea table, +busying herself with the tea things. + +HETTY. Harriet. [There is no answer.] Harriet, my other self. [There is +no answer.] My trained self. + +HARRIET [listens intently]. Yes? [From behind HARRIET'S chair HETTY +rises slowly.] + +HETTY. I want to talk to you. + +HARRIET. Well? + +HETTY [looking at HARRIET admiringly]. Oh, Harriet, you are beautiful +to-day. + +HARRIET. Am I presentable, Hetty? + +HETTY. Suits me. + +HARRIET. I've tried to make the best of the good points. + +HETTY. My passions are deeper than yours. I can't keep on the mask as +you do. I'm crude and real, you are my appearance in the world. + +HARRIET. I am what you wish the world to believe you are. + +HETTY. You are the part of me that has been trained. + +HARRIET. I am your educated self. + +HETTY. I am the rushing river; you are the ice over the current. + +HARRIET. I am your subtle overtones. + +HETTY. But together we are one woman, the wife of Charles Goodrich. + +HARRIET. There I disagree with you, Hetty, I alone am his wife. + +HETTY [indignantly]. Harriet, how can you say such a thing! + +HARRIET. Certainly. I am the one who flatters him. I have to be the one +who talks to him. If I gave you a chance you would tell him at once that +you dislike him. + +HETTY [moving away], I don't love him, that's certain. + +HARRIET. You leave all the fibbing to me. He doesn't suspect that my +calm, suave manner hides your hatred. Considering the amount of scheming +it causes me it can safely be said that he is my husband. + +HETTY. Oh, if you love him---- + +HARRIET. I? I haven't any feelings. It isn't my business to love +anybody. + +HETTY. Then why need you object to calling him my husband? + +HARRIET. I resent your appropriation of a man who is managed only +through the cleverness of my artifice. + +HETTY. You may be clever enough to deceive him, Harriet, but I am still +the one who suffers. I can't forget he is my husband. I can't forget +that I might have married John Caldwell. + +HARRIET. How foolish of you to remember John, just because we met his +wife by chance. + +HETTY. That's what I want to talk to you about. She may be here at any +moment. I want to advise you about what to say to her this afternoon. + +HARRIET. By all means tell me now and don't interrupt while she is here. +You have a most annoying habit of talking to me when people are present. +Sometimes it is all I can do to keep my poise and appear not to be +listening to you. + +HETTY. Impress her. + +HARRIET. Hetty, dear, is it not my custom to impress people? + +HETTY. I hate her. + +HARRIET. I can't let her see that. + +HETTY. I hate her because she married John. + +HARRIET. Only after you had refused him. + +HETTY [turning on HARRIET]. Was it my fault that I refused him? + +HARRIET. That's right, blame me. + +HETTY. It was your fault. You told me he was too poor and never would be +able to do anything in painting. Look at him now, known in Europe, just +returned from eight years in Paris, famous. + +HARRIET. It was too poor a gamble at the time. It was much safer to +accept Charles's money and position. + +HETTY. And then John married Margaret within the year. + +HARRIET. Out of spite. + +HETTY. Freckled, gawky-looking thing she was, too. + +HARRIET [a little sadly]. Europe improved her. She was stunning the +other morning. + +HETTY. Make her jealous to-day. + +HARRIET. Shall I be haughty or cordial or caustic or---- + +HETTY. Above all else you must let her know that we are rich. + +HARRIET. Oh, yes, I do that quite easily now. + +HETTY. You must put it on a bit. + +HARRIET. Never fear. + +HETTY. Tell her I love my husband. + +HARRIET. My husband---- + +HETTY. Are you going to quarrel with me? + +HARRIET [moves away]. No, I have no desire to quarrel with you. It is +quite too uncomfortable. I couldn't get away from you if I tried. + +HETTY [stamping her foot and following HARRIET]. You were a stupid fool +to make me refuse John, I'll never forgive you--never---- + +HARRIET [stopping and holding up her hand]. Don't get me all excited. +I'll be in no condition to meet her properly this afternoon. + +HETTY [passionately]. I could choke you for robbing me of John. + +HARRIET [retreating]. Don't muss me! + +HETTY. You don't know how you have made me suffer. + +HARRIET [beginning to feel the strength of HETTY'S emotion surge through +her and trying to conquer it]. It is not my business to have heartaches. + +HETTY. You're bloodless. Nothing but sham--sham--while I---- + +HARRIET [emotionally]. Be quiet! I can't let her see that I have been +fighting with my inner self. + +HETTY. And now after all my suffering you say it has cost you more than +it has cost me to be married to Charles. But it's the pain here in my +heart--I've paid the price--I've paid----Charles is not your husband! + +HARRIET [trying to conquer emotion]. He is. + +HETTY [follows HARRIET]. He isn't. + +HARRIET [weakly]. He is. + +HETTY [towering over HARRIET]. He isn't! I'll kill you! + +HARRIET [overpowered, sinks into a chair]. Don't--don't--you're stronger +than I--you're---- + +HETTY. Say he's mine. + +HARRIET. He's ours. + +HETTY [the telephone rings]. There she is now. + +[HETTY hurries to 'phone but HARRIET regains her supremacy.] + +HARRIET [authoritatively]. Wait! I can't let the telephone girl down +there hear my real self. It isn't proper. [At 'phone.] Show Mrs. +Caldwell up. + +HETTY. I'm so excited, my heart's in my mouth. + +HARRIET [at the mirror]. A nice state you've put my nerves into. + +HETTY. Don't let her see you're nervous. + +HARRIET. *Quick, put the veil on, or she'll see you shining through me. +[HARRIET takes a scarf of chiffon that has been lying over the back of a +chair and drapes it on HETTY, covering her face. The chiffon is the same +color of their gowns but paler in shade so that it pales HETTY'S darker +gown to match HARRIET'S lighter one. As HETTY moves in the following +scene the chiffon falls away revealing now and then the gown of deeper +dye underneath.] + + * (The vaudeville production did not use Harriet's line + about the veil because at the rise of the curtain Hetty is + already veiled in chiffon the same dark green shade as her + gown.) + + +HETTY. Tell her Charles is rich and fascinating--boast of our friends, +make her feel she needs us. + +HARRIET. I'll make her ask John to paint us. + +HETTY. That's just my thought--if John paints our portrait---- + +HARRIET. We can wear an exquisite gown---- + +HETTY. And make him fall in love again and---- + +HARRIET [schemingly]. Yes. + +[MARGARET parts the portieres back centre and extends her hand. MARGARET +is followed by her counterpart MAGGIE.] Oh, MARGARET, I'm so glad to see +you! + +HETTY [to MAGGIE]. That's a lie. + +MARGARET [in superficial voice throughout]. It's enchanting to see you, +Harriet. + +MAGGIE [in emotional voice throughout]. I'd bite you, if I dared. + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Wasn't our meeting a stroke of luck? + +MARGARET [coming down left of table]. I've thought of you so often, +HARRIET; and to come back and find you living in New York. + +HARRIET [coming down right of table]. Mr. Goodrich has many interests +here. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Flatter her. + +MARGARET. I know, Mr. Goodrich is so successful. + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Tell her we're rich. + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Won't you sit down? + +MARGARET [takes a chair]. What a beautiful cabinet!* + + * What beautiful lamps! (In vaudeville production.) + +HARRIET. Do you like it? I'm afraid Charles paid an extravagant price. + +MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I don't believe it. + +MARGARET [sitting down. To HARRIET]. I am sure he must have. + +HARRIET [sitting down]. How well you are looking, Margaret. + +HETTY. Yes, you are not. There are circles under your eyes. + +MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm hungry. + +MARGARET [to HARRIET]. How well you are looking, too. + +MAGGIE [to HETTY]. You have hard lines about your lips, are you happy? + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't let her know that I'm unhappy. + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Why shouldn't I look well? My life is full, +happy, complete---- + +MAGGIE. I wonder. + +HETTY [in HARRIET'S ear]. Tell her we have an automobile. + +MARGARET [to HARRIET]. My life is complete, too. + +MAGGIE. My heart is torn with sorrow; my husband cannot make a living. +He will kill himself if he does not get an order for a painting. + +MARGARET [laughs]. You must come and see us in our studio. John has been +doing some excellent portraits. He cannot begin to fill his orders. + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Tell her we have an automobile. + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Do you take lemon in your tea? + +MAGGIE. Take cream. It's more filling. + +MARGARET [looking nonchalantly at tea things]. No, cream, if you please. +How cozy! + +MAGGIE [glaring at tea things]. Only cakes! I could eat them all! + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. How many lumps? + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Sugar is nourishing. + +MARGARET [to HARRIET], Three, please. I used to drink very sweet coffee +in Turkey and ever since I've---- + +HETTY. I don't believe you were ever in Turkey. + +MAGGIE. I wasn't, but it is none of your business. + +HARRIET [pouring tea]. Have you been in Turkey, do tell me about it. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Change the subject. + +MARGARET [to HARRIET]. You must go there. You have so much taste in +dress you would enjoy seeing their costumes. + +MAGGIE. Isn't she going to pass the cake? + +MARGARET [to HARRIET]. John painted several portraits there. + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Why don't you stop her bragging and tell her we have +an automobile? + +HARRIET [offers cake across the table to MARGARET]. Cake? + +MAGGIE [stands back of MARGARET, shadowing her as HETTY shadows HARRIET. +MAGGIE reaches claws out for the cake and groans with joy]. At last! +[But her claws do not touch the cake.] + +MARGARET [with a graceful, nonchalant hand places cake upon her plate +and bites at it slowly and delicately]. Thank you. + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Automobile! + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Follow up the costumes with the suggestion that +she would make a good model for John. It isn't too early to begin +getting what you came for. + +MARGARET [ignoring MAGGIE]. What delicious cake. + +HETTY [excitedly to HARRIET]. There's your chance for the auto. + +HARRIET [nonchalantly to MARGARET]. Yes, it is good cake, isn't it? +There are always a great many people buying it at Harper's. I sat in my +automobile fifteen minutes this morning waiting for my chauffeur to get +it. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Make her order a portrait. + +MARGARET [to HARRIET]. If you stopped at Harper's you must have noticed +the new gowns at Henderson's. Aren't the shop windows alluring these +days? + +HARRIET. Even my chauffeur notices them. + +MAGGIE. I know you have an automobile, I heard you the first time. + +MARGARET. I notice gowns now with an artist's eye as John does. The one +you have on, my dear, is very paintable. + +HETTY. Don't let her see you're anxious to be painted. + +HARRIET [nonchalantly]. Oh, it's just a little model. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Don't seem anxious to get the order. + +MARGARET [nonchalantly]. Perhaps it isn't the gown itself but the way +you wear it that pleases the eye. Some people can wear anything with +grace. + +HETTY. Yes, I'm very graceful. + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. You flatter me, my dear. + +MARGARET. On the contrary, Harriet, I have an intense admiration for +you. I remember how beautiful you were--as a girl. In fact, I was quite +jealous when John was paying you so much attention. + +HETTY. She is gloating because I lost him. + +HARRIET. Those were childhood days in a country town. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She's trying to make you feel that John was only a +country boy. + +MARGARET. Most great men have come from the country. There is a fair +chance that John will be added to the list. + +HETTY. I know it and I am bitterly jealous of you. + +HARRIET. Undoubtedly he owes much of his success to you, Margaret, your +experience in economy and your ability to endure hardship. Those first +few years in Paris must have been a struggle. + +MAGGIE. She is sneering at your poverty. + +MARGARET. Yes, we did find life difficult at first, not the luxurious +start a girl has who marries wealth. + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Deny that you married Charles for his money. +[HARRIET deems it wise to ignore HETTY'S advice.] + +MARGARET. But John and I are so congenial in our tastes, that we were +impervious to hardship or unhappiness. + +HETTY [in anguish]. Do you love each other? Is it really true? + +HARRIET [sweetly]. Did you have all the romance of starving for his art? + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She's taunting you. Get even with her. + +MARGARET. Not for long. Prince Rier soon discovered John's genius, and +introduced him royally to wealthy Parisians who gave him many orders. + +HETTY [to MAGGIE]. Are you telling the truth or are you lying? + +HARRIET. If he had so many opportunities there, you must have had great +inducements to come back to the States. + +MAGGIE [to HETTY]. We did, but not the kind you think. + +MARGARET. John became the rage among Americans travelling in France, +too, and they simply insisted upon his coming here. + +HARRIET. Whom is he going to paint here? + +MAGGIE [frightened]. What names dare I make up? + +MARGARET [calmly]. Just at present Miss Dorothy Ainsworth of Oregon is +posing. You may not know the name, but she is the daughter of a wealthy +miner who found gold in Alaska. + +HARRIET. I dare say there are many Western people we have never heard +of. + +MARGARET. You must have found social life in New York very interesting, +Harriet, after the simplicity of our home town. + +HETTY [to MAGGIE]. There's no need to remind us that our beginnings were +the same. + +HARRIET. Of course Charles's family made everything delightful for me. +They are so well connected. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Flatter her. + +MARGARET. I heard it mentioned yesterday that you had made yourself very +popular. Some one said you were very clever! + +HARRIET [pleased]. Who told you that? + +MAGGIE. Nobody! + +MARGARET [pleasantly]. Oh, confidences should be suspected--respected, +I mean. They said, too, that you are gaining some reputation as a critic +of art. + +HARRIET. I make no pretenses. + +MARGARET. Are you and Mr. Goodrich interested in the same things, too? + +HETTY. No! + +HARRIET. Yes, indeed, Charles and I are inseparable. + +MAGGIE. I wonder. + +HARRIET. Do have another cake. + +MAGGIE [in relief]. Oh, yes. [Again her claws extend but do not touch +the cake.] + +MARGARET [takes cake delicately]. I really shouldn't--after my big +luncheon. John took me to the Ritz and we are invited to the Bedfords' +for dinner--they have such a magnificent house near the drive--I really +shouldn't, but the cakes are so good. + +MAGGIE. Starving! + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. More tea? + +MAGGIE. Yes! + +MARGARET. No, thank you. How wonderfully life has arranged itself for +you. Wealth, position, a happy marriage, every opportunity to enjoy all +pleasures; beauty, art--how happy you must be. + +HETTY [in anguish]. Don't call me happy. I've never been happy since +I gave up John. All these years without him--a future without +him--no--no--I shall win him back--away from you--away from you---- + +HARRIET [does not see MAGGIE pointing to cream and MARGARET stealing +some]. I sometimes think it is unfair for any one to be as happy as I +am. Charles and I are just as much in love now as when we married. To me +he is just the dearest man in the world. + +MAGGIE [passionately]. My John is. I love him so much I could die for +him. I'm going through hunger and want to make him great and he loves +me. He worships me! + +MARGARET [leisurely to HARRIET]. I should like to meet Mr. Goodrich. +Bring him to our studio. John has some sketches to show. Not many, +because all the portraits have been purchased by the subjects. He gets +as much as four thousand dollars now. + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't pay that much. + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. As much as that? + +MARGARET. It is not really too much when one considers that John is in +the foremost rank of artists to-day. A picture painted by him now will +double and treble in value. + +MAGGIE. It's all a lie. He is growing weak with despair. + +HARRIET. Does he paint all day long? + +MAGGIE. No, he draws advertisements for our bread. + +MARGARET [to HARRIET]. When you and your husband come to see us, +telephone first---- + +MAGGIE. Yes, so he can get the advertisements out of the way. + +MARGARET. Otherwise you might arrive while he has a sitter, and John +refuses to let me disturb him then. + +HETTY. Make her ask for an order. + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Le Grange offered to paint me for a thousand. + +MARGARET. Louis Le Grange's reputation isn't worth more than that. + +HARRIET. Well, I've heard his work well mentioned. + +MAGGIE. Yes, he is doing splendid work. + +MARGARET. Oh, dear me, no. He is only praised by the masses. He is +accepted not at all by artists themselves. + +HETTY [anxiously]. Must I really pay the full price? + +HARRIET. Le Grange thought I would make a good subject. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Let her fish for it. + +MARGARET. Of course you would. Why don't you let Le Grange paint you, if +you trust him? + +HETTY. She doesn't seem anxious to have John do it. + +HARRIET. But if Le Grange isn't accepted by artists, it would be a waste +of time to pose for him, wouldn't it? + +MARGARET. Yes, I think it would. + +MAGGIE [passionately to HETTY across back of table]. Give us the order. +John is so despondent he can't endure much longer. Help us! Help me! +Save us! + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't seem too eager. + +HARRIET. And yet if he charges only a thousand one might consider it. + +MARGARET. If you really wish to be painted, why don't you give a little +more and have a portrait really worth while? John might be induced to do +you for a little below his usual price considering that you used to be +such good friends. + +HETTY [in glee]. Hurrah! + +HARRIET [quietly to MARGARET]. That's very nice of you to suggest--of +course I don't know---- + +MAGGIE [in fear]. For God's sake, say yes. + +MARGARET [quietly to HARRIET]. Of course, I don't know whether John +would. He is very peculiar in these matters. He sets his value on his +work and thinks it beneath him to discuss price. + +HETTY [to MAGGIE]. You needn't try to make us feel small. + +MARGARET. Still, I might quite delicately mention to him that inasmuch +as you have many influential friends you would be very glad to--to---- + +MAGGIE [to HETTY]. Finish what I don't want to say. + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Help her out. + +HARRIET. Oh, yes, introductions will follow the exhibition of my +portrait. No doubt I---- + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Be patronizing. + +HARRIET. No doubt I shall be able to introduce your husband to his +advantage. + +MAGGIE [relieved]. Saved. + +MARGARET. If I find John in a propitious mood I shall take pleasure, for +your sake, in telling him about your beauty. Just as you are sitting now +would be a lovely pose. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. We can go now. + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't let her think she is doing us a favor. + +HARRIET. It will give me pleasure to add my name to your husband's list +of patronesses. + +MAGGIE [excitedly to MARGARET]. Run home and tell John the good news. + +MARGARET [leisurely to HARRIET]. I little guessed when I came for +a pleasant chat about old times that it would develop into business +arrangements. I had no idea, Harriet, that you had any intention of +being painted. By Le Grange, too. Well, I came just in time to rescue +you. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Run home and tell John. Hurry, hurry! + +HETTY [to HARRIET]. You managed the order very neatly. She doesn't +suspect that you wanted it. + +HARRIET. Now if I am not satisfied with my portrait I shall blame you, +Margaret, dear. I am relying upon your opinion of John's talent. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She doesn't suspect what you came for. Run home +and tell John! + +HARRIET. You always had a brilliant mind, Margaret. + +MARGARET. Ah, it is you who flatter, now. + +MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. You don't have to stay so long. Hurry home! + +HARRIET. Ah, one does not flatter when one tells the truth. + +MARGARET [smiles]. I must be going or you will have me completely under +your spell. + +HETTY [looks at clock]. Yes, do go. I have to dress for dinner. + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Oh, don't hurry. + +MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I hate you! + +MARGARET [to HARRIET]. No, really I must, but I hope we shall see each +other often at the studio. I find you so stimulating. + +HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I hate you! + +HARRIET [to MARGARET]. It is indeed gratifying to find a kindred spirit. + +MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I came for your gold. + +MARGARET [to HARRIET]. How delightful it is to know you again. + +HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I am going to make you and your husband suffer. + +HARRIET. My kind regards to John. + +MAGGIE [to HETTY]. He has forgotten all about you. + +MARGARET [rises]. He will be so happy to receive them. + +HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I can hardly wait to talk to him again. + +HARRIET. I shall wait, then, until you send me word? + +MARGARET [offering her hand]. I'll speak to John about it as soon as I +can and tell you when to come. + +[HARRIET takes MARGARET'S hand affectionately. HETTY and MAGGIE rush at +each other, throw back their veils, and fling their speeches fiercely at +each other.] + +HETTY. I love him--I love him---- + +MAGGIE. He's starving--I'm starving---- + +HETTY. I'm going to take him away from you---- + +MAGGIE. I want your money--and your influence. + +HETTY and MAGGIE. I'm going to rob you--rob you. + +[There is a cymbal crash, the lights go out and come up again slowly, +leaving only MARGARET and HARRIET visible.] + +MARGARET [quietly to HARRIET]. I've had such a delightful afternoon. + +HARRIET [offering her hand]. It has been a joy to see you. + +MARGARET [sweetly to HARRIET]. Good-bye. + +HARRIET [sweetly to MARGARET as she kisses her]. Good-bye, my dear. + +Curtain. + + + + +IV. HELENA'S HUSBAND + +An Historical Comedy + +By Philip Moeller + +Copyright, 1915, by Philip Moeller + +"Helena's Husband" was produced by the Washington Square Players, under +the direction of Philip Moeller, at the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, +beginning October 4, 1915. + +In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the following: + + HELENA, Queen of Sparta. Noel Haddon + TSUMU, her slave. Helen Westley + MENELAUS, the King. Frank Conroy + ANALYTIKOS, his librarian. Walter Frankl + PARIS, a shepherd. Harold Meltzer + +The scene was designed by Paul T. Frankl and the costumes by Robert +Locker. + +"Helena's Husband" was subsequently revived by the Washington Square +Players at the Comedy Theatre, New York City, beginning June 5, 1916, +with Margaret Mower playing the part of Helen. + + +CHARACTERS + + HELENA, the Queen + TSUMU, a black woman, slave to Helena + MENELAUS, the King + ANALYTIKOS, the King's librarian + PARIS, a shepherd + +SCENE: Is that archeolological mystery, a Greek interior. A door on the +right leads to the KING'S library, one on the left to the apartments of +the QUEEN. Back right is the main entrance leading to the palace. Next +this, running the full length of the wall, is a window with a platform, +built out over the main court. Beyond is a view of hills bright with +lemon groves, and in the far distance shimmers the sea. On the wall near +the QUEEN'S room hangs an old shield rusty with disuse. A bust of Zeus +stands on a pedestal against the right wall. There are low coffers about +the room from which hang the ends of vivid colored robes. The scene is +bathed in intense sunlight. + +TSUMU is massaging the QUEEN. + +HELENA. There's no doubt about it. + +TSUMU. Analytikos says there is much doubt about all things. + +HELENA. Never mind what he says. I envy you your complexion. + +TSUMU [falling prostrate before HELENA]. Whom the Queen envies should +beware. + +HELENA [annoyed]. Get up, Tsumu. You make me nervous tumbling about like +that. + +TSUMU [still on the floor]. Why does the great Queen envy Tsumu? + +HELENA. Get up, you silly. [She kicks her.] I envy you because you can +run about and never worry about getting sunburnt. + +TSUMU [on her knees]. The radiant beauty of the Queen is unspoilable. + +HELENA. That's just what's worrying me, Tsumu. When beauty is so perfect +the slightest jar may mean a jolt. [She goes over and looks at her +reflection in the shield.] I can't see myself as well as I would like +to. The King's shield is tarnished. Menelaus has been too long out of +battle. + +TSUMU [handing her a hand mirror]. The Gods will keep Sparta free from +strife. + +HELENA. I'll have you beaten if you assume that prophetic tone with me. +There's one thing I can't stand, and that's a know-all. [Flinging the +hand mirror to the floor.] + +TSUMU [in alarm]. Gods grant you haven't bent it. + +HELENA. These little mirrors are useless. His shield is the only thing +in which I can see myself full-length. If he only went to war, he'd have +to have it cleaned. + +TSUMU [putting the mirror on a table near the QUEEN]. The King is a +lover of peace. + +HELENA. The King is a lover of comfort. Have you noticed that he spends +more time than he used to in the library? + +TSUMU. He is busy with questions of State. + +HELENA. You know perfectly well that when anything's the matter with the +Government it's always straightened out at the other end of the palace. +Finish my shoulder. [She examines her arm.] I doubt if there is a finer +skin than this in Sparta. + +[TSUMU begins to massage the QUEEN'S shoulder.] + +HELENA [taking up a mirror]. That touch of deep carmine right here in +the centre of my lips was quite an idea. + +TSUMU [busily pounding the QUEEN]. An inspiration of the Gods! + +HELENA. The Gods have nothing to do with it. I copied it from a low +woman I saw at the circus. I can't understand how these bad women have +such good ideas. [HELENA twists about.] + +TSUMU. If your majesty doesn't sit still, I may pinch you. + +HELENA [boxing her ears]. None of your tricks, you ebony fiend! + +TSUMU [crouching]. Descendant of paradise, forgive me. + +HELENA. If you bruise my perfect flesh, the King will kill you. My +beauty is his religion. He can sit for hours, as if at prayer, just +examining the arch of my foot. Tsumu, you may kiss my foot. + +TSUMU [prostrate]. May the Gods make me worthy of your kindness! + +HELENA. That's enough. Tsumu, are you married? + +TSUMU [getting up]. I've been so busy having babies I never had time to +get married. + +HELENA. It's a great disillusionment. + +TSUMU [aghast]. What! + +HELENA. I'm not complaining. Moo Moo is the best of husbands, but +sometimes being adored too much is trying. [She sighs deeply.] I think +I'll wear my heliotrope this afternoon. + +[A trumpet sounds below in the courtyard. TSUMU goes to the window.] + +TSUMU. They are changing the guards at the gates of the palace. It's +almost time for your bath. [She begins scraping the massage ointment +back into the box.] + +HELENA. You're as careful with that ointment as Moo Moo is with me. + +TSUMU. Precious things need precious guarding. + +HELENA. It's very short-sighted on Moo Moo's part to send everybody +to the galleys who dares lift a head when I pass by--and all those +nice-looking soldiers! Why--the only men I ever see besides Moo Moo are +Analytikos and a lot of useless eunuchs. + +TSUMU. Oh, those eunuchs! + +HELENA [as she sits dreaming]. I wish, I wish---- [She stops short.] + +TSUMU. You have but to speak your desire to the King. + +HELENA [shocked]. Tsumu! How can you think of such a thing? I'm not a +bad woman. + +TSUMU. He would die for you. + +HELENA [relieved]. Ah! Do you think so, Tsumu? + +TSUMU. All Sparta knows that His Majesty is a lover of peace, and yet he +would rush into battle to save you. + +HELENA. I should love to have men fighting for me. + +TSUMU [in high alarm]. May Zeus turn a deaf ear to your voice. + +HELENA. Don't be impertinent, Tsumu. I've got to have some sort of +amusement. + +TSUMU. You've only to wait till next week, and you can see another of +the priestesses sacrificed to Diana. + +HELENA. That doesn't interest me any longer. The girls are positively +beginning to like it. No! My mind is set on war. + +TSUMU [terrified]. I have five fathers of my children to lose. + +HELENA. War, or--or---- + +TSUMU [hopefully]. Have I been so long your slave that I no longer know +your wish? + +HELENA [very simply]. Well, I should like to have a lover. + +TSUMU [springs up and rushes over in horror to draw the curtains across +the door to the library. All of a tremble]. Gods grant they didn't hear +you. + +HELENA. Don't be alarmed, Tsumu. Analytikos is over eighty. [She bursts +into a loud peal of laughter and MENELAUS rushes into the room.] + +MENELAUS [in high irritation]. I wish you wouldn't make so much noise in +here. A King might at least expect quiet in his own palace. + +HELENA. Tsumu, see if my bath is ready. [TSUMU exits.] You used not +speak like that to me, Moo Moo. + +MENELAUS [in a temper]. How many times must I tell you that my name is +Menelaus and that it isn't "Moo Moo?" + +HELENA [sweetly]. I'll never do it again, Moo Moo. [She giggles.] + +MENELAUS. Your laugh gets on my nerves. It's louder than it used to be. + +HELENA. If you wish it, I'll never, never laugh again. + +MENELAUS. You've promised that too often. + +HELENA [sadly]. Things are not as they used to be. + +MENELAUS. Are you going to start that again? + +HELENA [with a tinge of melancholy]. I suppose you'd like me to be still +and sad. + +MENELAUS [bitterly]. Is it too much to hope that you might be still and +happy? + +HELENA [speaking very quickly and tragically]. Don't treat me cruelly, +Moo Moo. You don't understand me. No man ever really understands a +woman. There are terrible depths to my nature. I had a long talk with +Dr. Aesculapius only last week, and he told me I'm too introspective. +It's the curse of us emotional women. I'm really quite worried, but much +you care, much you care. [A note of tears comes into her voice.] I'm +sure you don't love me any more, Moo Moo. No! No! Don't answer me! If +you did you couldn't speak to me the way you do. I've never wronged +you in deed or in thought. No, never--never. I've given up my hopes and +aspirations, because I knew you wanted me around you. And now, NOW---- +[She can contain the tears no longer.] Because I have neglected my +beauty and because I am old and ugly, you regret that Ulysses or +Agamemnon didn't marry me when you all wanted me, and I know you curse +the day you ever saw me. [She is breathless.] + +MENELAUS [fuming]. Well! Have you done? + +HELENA. No. I could say a great deal more, but I'm not a talkative +woman. + +[ANALYTIKOS comes in from the library.] + +ANALYTIKOS. Your Majesty, are we to read no longer to-day? + +HELENA. I have something to say to the King. [ANALYTIKOS goes toward the +library. MENELAUS anxiously stops him.] + +MENELAUS. No. Stay here. You are a wise man and will understand the +wisdom of the Queen. + +ANALYTIKOS [bowing to HELENA]. Helena is wise as she is beautiful. + +MENELAUS. She is attempting to prove to me in a thousand words that +she's a silent woman. + +ANALYTIKOS. Women are seldom silent. [HELENA resents this.] Their beauty +is forever speaking for them. + +HELENA. The years have, indeed, taught you wisdom. [TSUMU enters.] + +TSUMU. The almond water awaits Your Majesty. + +HELENA. I hope you haven't forgotten the chiropodist. + +TSUMU. He has been commanded but he's always late. He's so busy. + +HELENA [in a purring tone to MENELAUS]. Moo Moo. + +[MENELAUS, bored, turns away.] + +HELENA [to TSUMU]. I think after all I'll wear my Sicily blue. + +[She and TSUMU go into the QUEEN'S apartment.] + +ANALYTIKOS. Shall we go back to the library? + +MENELAUS. My mind is unhinged again--that woman with her endless +protestations. + +ANALYTIKOS. I am sorry the poets no longer divert you. + +MENELAUS. A little poetry is always too much. + +ANALYTIKOS. To-morrow we will try the historians. + +MENELAUS. No! Not the historians. I want the truth for a change. + +ANALYTIKOS. The truth! + +MENELAUS. Where in books can I find escape from the grim reality of +being hitched for life to such a wife? Bah! + +ANALYTIKOS. Philosophy teaches---- + +MENELAUS. Why have the Gods made woman necessary to man, and made them +fools? + +ANALYTIKOS. For seventy years I have been resolving the problem of woman +and even at my age---- + +MENELAUS. Give it up, old man. The answer is--don't. + +ANALYTIKOS. Such endless variety, and yet---- + +MENELAUS [with the conviction of finality]. There are only two sorts of +women! Those who are failures and those who realize it. + +ANALYTIKOS. Is not Penelope, the model wife of your cousin Ulysses, an +exception? + +MENELAUS. Duty is the refuge of the unbeautiful. She is as commonplace +as she is ugly. [And then with deep bitterness.] Why didn't he marry +Helen when we all wanted her? He was too wise for that. He is the only +man I've ever known who seems able to direct destiny. + +ANALYTIKOS. You should not blame the Gods for a lack of will. + +MENELAUS [shouting]. Will! Heaven knows I do not lack the will to rid +myself of this painted puppet, but where is the instrument ready to my +hand? + +[At this moment a SHEPHERD of Apollonian beauty leaps across the rail of +the balcony and bounds into the room. MENELAUS and ANALYTIKOS start back +in amazement.] + +ANALYTIKOS. Who are you? + +PARIS. An adventurer. + +ANALYTIKOS. Then you have reached the end of your story. In a moment you +will die. + +PARIS. I have no faith in prophets. + +ANALYTIKOS. The soldiers of the King will give you faith. Don't you know +that it means death for any man to enter the apartments of the Queen? + +PARIS [looking from one to the other]. Oh! So you're a couple of +eunuchs. + +[Though nearly eighty this is too much for ANALYTIKOS to bear. He rushes +to call the guards, but MENELAUS stops him.] + +PARIS [to ANALYTIKOS]. Thanks. + +ANALYTIKOS. You thank me for telling you your doom? + +PARIS. No--for convincing me that I'm where I want to be. It's taken +me a long while, but I knew I'd get here. [And then very intimately to +MENELAUS.] Where's the Queen? + +MENELAUS. Where do you come from? + +PARIS. From the hills. I had come down into the market-place to sell +my sheep. I had my hood filled with apples. They were golden-red like a +thousand sunsets. + +MENELAUS [annoyed]. You might skip those bucolic details. + +PARIS. At the fair I met three ancient gypsies. + +MENELAUS. What have they to do with you coming here? + +PARIS. You don't seem very patient. Can't I tell my story in my own way? +They asked me for the apple I was eating and I asked them what they'd +give for it. + +MENELAUS. I'm not interested in market quotations. + +PARIS. You take everything so literally. I'm sure you're easily bored. + +MENELAUS [with meaning]. I am. + +PARIS [going on cheerfully]. The first was to give me all the money she +could beg, and the second was to tell me all the truth she could learn +by listening, and the third promised me a pretty girl. So I chose---- +[He hesitates.] + +ANALYTIKOS. You cannot escape by spinning out your tale. + +PARIS. Death is the end of one story and the beginning of another. + +MENELAUS. Well! Well! Come to the point. Which did you choose? + +PARIS [smiling]. Well, you see I'd been in the hills for a long while, +so I picked the girl. + +ANALYTIKOS. It would have been better for you if you had chosen wisdom. + +PARIS. I knew you'd say that. + +ANALYTIKOS. I have spoken truly. In a moment you will die. + +PARIS. It is because the old have forgotten life that they preach +wisdom. + +MENELAUS. So you chose the girl? Well, go on. + +PARIS. This made the other cronies angry, and when I tossed her the +apple one of the others yelped at me: "You may as well seek the Queen of +Sparta: she is the fairest of women." And as I turned away I heard their +laughter, but the words had set my heart aflame and though it costs me +my life, I'll follow the adventure. + +ANALYTIKOS [scandalized]. Haven't we heard enough of this? + +MENELAUS [deeply]. No! I want to hear how the story ends. It may amuse +the King. [He makes a sign to ANALYTIKOS.] + +PARIS. And on the ship at night I looked long at the stars and dreamed +of possessing Helen. [ANALYTIKOS makes an involuntary movement toward +the balcony but MENELAUS stops him.] Desire has been my guiding Mercury; +the Fates are with me, and here I am! + +ANALYTIKOS. The wrath of the King will show you no mercy. + +PARIS [nonchalantly]. I'm not afraid of the King. He's fat, and--a fool. + +ANALYTIKOS. Shall I call the guards? [MENELAUS stops him.] + +MENELAUS [very significantly]. So you would give your life for a glimpse +of the Queen? + +PARIS [swiftly]. Yes! My immortal soul, and if the fables tell the +truth, the sight will be worth the forfeit. + +MENELAUS [suddenly jumping up]. It shall be as you wish! + +PARIS [buoyantly]. Venus has smiled on me. + +MENELAUS. In there beyond the library you will find a room with a bath. +Wait there till I call you. + +PARIS. Is this some trick to catch me? + +MENELAUS. A Spartan cannot lie. + +PARIS. What will happen to you if the King hears of this? + +MENELAUS. I will answer for the king. Go. + +[PARIS exits into the library.] + +ANALYTIKOS [rubbing his hands]. Shall I order the boiling oil? + +MENELAUS [surprised]. Oil? + +ANALYTIKOS. Now that he is being cleaned for the sacrifice. + +MENELAUS. His torture will be greater than being boiled alive. + +ANALYTIKOS [eagerly]. You'll have him hurled from the walls of the +palace to a forest of waiting spears below? + +MENELAUS. None is so blind as he who sees too much. + +ANALYTIKOS. Your Majesty is subtle in his cruelty. + +MENELAUS. Haven't the years taught you the cheapness of revenge? + +ANALYTIKOS [mystified]. You do not intend to alter destiny. + +MENELAUS. Never before has destiny been so clear to me. + +ANALYTIKOS. Then the boy must die. + +MENELAUS [with slow determination]. No! He has been sent by the Gods to +save me! + +ANALYTIKOS. Your majesty! [He is trembling with apprehension.] + +MENELAUS [with unbudgeable conviction]. Helena must elope with him! + +ANALYTIKOS [falling into a seat]. Ye Gods! + +MENELAUS [quickly]. I couldn't divorce the Queen. That would set a bad +example. + +ANALYTIKOS. Yes, very. + +MENELAUS. I couldn't desert her. That would be beneath my honor. + +ANALYTIKOS [deeply]. Was there no other way? + +MENELAUS [pompously]. The King can do no wrong, and besides I hate the +smell of blood. Are you a prophet as well as a scholar? Will she go? + +ANALYTIKOS. To-night I will read the stars. + +MENELAUS [meaningfully]. By to-night I'll not need you to tell me. +[ANALYTIKOS sits deep in thought.] Well? + +ANALYTIKOS. Ethics cite no precedent. + +MENELAUS. Do you mean to say I'm not justified? + +ANALYTIKOS [cogitating]. Who can establish the punctilious ratio between +necessity and desire? + +MENELAUS [beginning to fume]. This is no time for language. Just put +yourself in my place. + +ANALYTIKOS. Being you, how can I judge as I? + +MENELAUS [losing control]. May you choke on your dialectics! Zeus +himself could have stood it no longer. + +ANALYTIKOS. Have you given her soul a chance to grow? + +MENELAUS. Her soul, indeed! It's shut in her rouge pot. [He has been +strutting about. Suddenly he sits down crushing a roll of papyrus. +He takes it up and in utter disgust reads.] "The perfect hip, its +development and permanence." Bah! [He flings it to the floor.] I've done +what I had to do, and Gods grant the bait may be sweet enough to catch +the Queen. + +ANALYTIKOS. If you had diverted yourself with a war or two you might +have forgotten your troubles at home. + +MENELAUS [frightened]. I detest dissension of any kind--my dream was +perpetual peace in comfortable domesticity with a womanly woman to warm +my sandals. + +ANALYTIKOS. Is not the Queen----? + +MENELAUS. No! No! The whole world is but her mirror. And I'm expected to +face that woman every morning at breakfast for the rest of my life, and +by Venus that's more than even a King can bear! + +ANALYTIKOS. Even a King cannot alter destiny. I warn you, whom the Gods +have joined together---- + +MENELAUS [in an outburst]. Is for man to break asunder! + +ANALYTIKOS [deeply shocked]. You talk like an atheist. + +MENELAUS. I never allow religion to interfere with life. Go call the +victim and see that he be left alone with the Queen. [MENELAUS exits and +ANALYTIKOS goes over to the door of the library and summons PARIS, who +enters clad in a gorgeous robe.] + +PARIS. I found this in there. It looks rather well, doesn't it? Ah! So +you're alone. I suppose that stupid friend of yours has gone to tell the +King. When do I see the Queen? + +ANALYTIKOS. At once. [He goes to the door of the QUEEN'S apartment and +claps his hand. TSUMU enters and at the sight of her PARIS recoils the +full length of the room.] + +PARIS. I thought the Queen was a blonde! + +ANALYTIKOS. Tell Her Majesty a stranger awaits her here. [TSUMU exits, +her eyes wide on PARIS.] You should thank the Gods for this moment. + +PARIS [his eyes on the door]. You do it for me. I can never remember all +their names. + +[HELENA enters clad in her Sicily blue, crowned with a garland of golden +flowers. She and PARIS stand riveted, looking at each other. Their +attitude might be described as fatalistic. ANALYTIKOS watches them for +a moment and then with hands and head lifted to heaven he goes into the +library.] + +PARIS [quivering with emotion]. I have the most strange sensation of +having seen you before. Something I can't explain---- + +HELENA [quite practically]. Please don't bother about all sorts of fine +distinctions. Under the influence of Analytikos and my husband, life has +become a mess of indecision. I'm a simple, direct woman and I expect you +to say just what you think. + +PARIS. Do you? Very well, then---- [He comes a step nearer to her.] Fate +is impelling me toward you. + +HELENA. Yes. That's much better. So you're a fatalist. It's very Greek. +I don't see what our dramatists would do without it. + +PARIS. In my country there are no dramatists. We are too busy with +reality. + +HELENA. Your people must be uncivilized barbarians. + +PARIS. My people are a genuine people. There is but one thing we +worship. + +HELENA. Don't tell me it's money. + +PARIS. It's---- + +HELENA. Analytikos says if there weren't any money, there wouldn't be +any of those ridiculous socialists. + +PARIS. It isn't money. It's sincerity. + +HELENA. I, too, believe in sincerity. It's the loveliest thing in the +world. + +PARIS. And the most dangerous. + +HELENA. The truth is never dangerous. + +PARIS. Except when told. + +HELENA [making room on the couch for him to sit next to her]. You +mustn't say wicked things to me. + +PARIS. Can your theories survive a test? + +HELENA [beautifully]. Truth is eternal and survives all tests. + +PARIS. No. Perhaps, after all, your soul is not ready for the supremest +heights. + +HELENA. Do you mean to say I'm not religious? Religion teaches the +meaning of love. + +PARIS. Has it taught you to love your husband? + +HELENA [starting up and immediately sitting down again]. How dare you +speak to me like that? + +PARIS. You see. I was right. [He goes toward the balcony.] + +HELENA [stopping him]. Whatever made you think so? + +PARIS. I've heard people talk of the King. You could never love a man +like that. + +HELENA [beautifully]. A woman's first duty is to love her husband. + +PARIS. There is a higher right than duty. + +HELENA [with conviction]. Right is right. + +PARIS [with admiration]. The world has libelled you. + +HELENA. Me! The Queen? + +PARIS. You are as wise as you are beautiful. + +HELENA [smiling coyly]. Why, you hardly know me. + +PARIS. I know you! I, better than all men. + +HELENA. You? + +PARIS [rapturously]. Human law has given you to Menelaus, but divine law +makes you mine. + +HELENA [in amazement]. What! + +PARIS. I alone appreciate your beauty. I alone can reach your soul. + +HELENA. Ah! + +PARIS. You hate your husband! + +HELENA [drawing back]. Why do you look at me like that? + +PARIS. To see if there's one woman in the world who dares tell the +truth. + +HELENA. My husband doesn't understand me. + +PARIS [with conviction]. I knew you detested him. + +HELENA. He never listens to my aspirations. + +PARIS. Egoist. + +HELENA [assuming an irresistible pose]. I'm tired of being only lovely. +He doesn't realize the meaning of spiritual intercourse, of soul +communion. + +PARIS. Fool! + +HELENA. You dare call Moo Moo a fool? + +PARIS. Has he not been too blind to see that your soul outshines your +beauty? [Then, very dramatically.] You're stifling! + +HELENA [clearing her throat]. I--I-------- + +PARIS. He has made you sit upon your wings. [HELENA, jumping up, shifts +her position.] You are groping in the darkness. + +HELENA. Don't be silly. It's very light in here. + +PARIS [undisturbed]. You are stumbling, and I have come to lead you. [He +steps toward her.] + +HELENA. Stop right there! [PARIS stops.] No man but the King can come +within ten feet of me. It's a court tradition. + +PARIS. Necessity knows no tradition. [He falls on his knees before her.] +I shall come close to you, though the flame of your beauty consume me. + +HELENA. You'd better be careful what you say to me. Remember I'm the +Queen. + +PARIS. No man weighs his words who has but a moment to live. + +HELENA. You said that exactly like an actor. [He leans very close to +her.] What are you doing now? + +PARIS. I am looking into you. You are the clear glass in which I read +the secret of the universe. + +HELENA. The secret of the universe. Ah! Perhaps you could understand me. + +PARIS. First you must understand yourself. + +HELENA [instinctively taking up a mirror]. How? + +PARIS. You must break with all this prose. [With an unconscious gesture +he sweeps a tray of toilet articles from the table. HELENA emits a +little shriek.] + +HELENA. The ointment! + +PARIS [rushing to the window and pointing to the distance]. And climb to +infinite poesie! + +HELENA [catching his enthusiasm, says very blandly]. There is nothing in +the world like poetry. + +PARIS [lyrically]. Have you ever heard the poignant breathing of the +stars? + +HELENA. No. I don't believe in astrology. + +PARIS. Have you ever smelt the powdery mists of the sun? + +HELENA. I should sneeze myself to death. + +PARIS. Have you ever listened to the sapphire soul of the sea? + +HELENA. Has the sea a soul? But please don't stop talking. You do it so +beautifully. + +PARIS. Deeds are sweeter than words. Shall we go hand in hand to meet +eternity? + +HELENA [not comprehending him]. That's very pretty. Say it again. + +PARIS [passionately]. There's but a moment of life left me. I shall +stifle it in ecstasy. Helena, Helena, I adore you! + +HELENA [jumping up in high surprise]. You're not making love to me, you +naughty boy? + +PARIS. Helena! + +HELENA. You've spoken to me so little, and already you dare to do that. + +PARIS [impetuously]. I am a lover of life. I skip the inessentials. + +HELENA. Remember who I am. + +PARIS. I have not forgotten. Daughter of Heaven. [Suddenly he leaps to +his feet.] Listen! + +HELENA. Shhh! That's the King and Analytikos in the library. + +PARIS. No! No! Don't you hear the flutter of wings? + +HELENA. Wings? + +PARIS [ecstatically]. Venus, mother of Love! + +HELENA [alarmed]. What is it? + +PARIS. She has sent her messenger. I hear the patter of little feet. + +HELENA. Those little feet are the soldiers below in the courtyard. [A +trumpet sounds.] + +PARIS [the truth of the situation breaking through his emotion]. In a +moment I shall be killed. + +HELENA. Killed? + +PARIS. Save me and save yourself! + +HELENA. Myself? + +PARIS. I shall rescue you and lead you on to life. + +HELENA. No one has ever spoken to me like that before. + +PARIS. This is the first time your ears have heard the truth. + +HELENA. Was it of you I've been dreaming? + +PARIS. Your dream was but your unrealized desire. + +HELENA. Menelaus has never made me feel like this. [And then with a +sudden shriek.] Oh! I'm a wicked woman! + +PARIS. No! No! + +HELENA. For years I've been living with a man I didn't love. + +PARIS. Yes! Yes! + +HELENA. I'm lost! + +PARIS [at a loss]. No! Yes! Yes! No! + +HELENA. It was a profanation of the most holy. + +PARIS. The holiest awaits you, Helena! Our love will lighten the +Plutonian realms. + +HELENA. Menelaus never spoke to me like that. + +PARIS. 'Tis but the first whisper of my adoration. + +HELENA. I can't face him every morning at breakfast for the rest of my +life. That's even more than a Queen can bear. + +PARIS. I am waiting to release you. + +HELENA. I've stood it for seven years. + +PARIS. I've been coming to you since the beginning of time. + +HELENA. There is something urging me to go with you, something I do not +understand. + +PARIS. Quick! There is but a moment left us. [He takes her rapturously +in his arms. There is a passionate embrace in the midst of which TSUMU +enters.] + +TSUMU. The chiropodist has come. + +HELENA. Bring me my outer garment and my purse. + +[TSUMU exits, her eyes wide on PARIS.] + +PARIS. Helena! Helena! + +[HELENA looks about her and takes up the papyrus that MENELAUS has flung +to the floor.] + +HELENA. A last word to the King. [She looks at the papyrus.] No, this +won't do; I shall have to take this with me. + +PARIS. What is it? + +HELENA. Maskanda's discourse on the hip. + +[A trumpet sounds below in the courtyard.] + +PARIS [excitedly]. Leave it--or your hip may cost me my head. We haven't +a minute to spare. Hurry! Hurry! + +[HELENA takes up an eyebrow pencil and writes on the back of the +papyrus. She looks for a place to put it and seeing the shield she +smears it with some of the ointment and sticks the papyrus to it.] + +PARIS [watching her in ecstasy]. You are the fairest of all fair women +and your name will blaze as a symbol throughout eternity. [TSUMU enters +with the purse and the QUEEN'S outer robe.] + +HELENA [tossing the purse to PARIS]. Here, we may need this. + +PARIS [throwing it back to TSUMU]. This for your silence, daughter of +darkness. A prince has no heed of purses. + +TSUMU [looking at him]. A prince! + +HELENA [gloriously]. My prince of poetry. My deliverer! + +PARIS [divinely]. My queen of love! + +[They go out, TSUMU looking after them in speechless amazement. Suddenly +she sees the papyrus on the shield, runs over and reads it and then +rushes to the door of the library.] + +TSUMU [calling]. Analytikos. [She hides the purse in her bosom. +ANALYTIKOS enters, scroll in hand.] + +ANALYTIKOS. Has the Queen summoned me? + +TSUMU [mysteriously]. A terrible thing has happened. + +ANALYTIKOS. What's the matter? + +TSUMU. Where's the King? + +ANALYTIKOS. In the library. + +TSUMU. I have news more precious than the gold of Midas. + +ANALYTIKOS [giving her a purse]. Well! What is it? + +TSUMU [speaking very dramatically and watching the effect of her words]. +The Queen has deserted Menelaus. + +ANALYTIKOS [receiving the shock philosophically]. Swift are the ways of +Nature. The Gods have smiled upon him. + +TSUMU. The Gods have forsaken the King to smile upon a prince. + +ANALYTIKOS. What? + +TSUMU. He was a prince. + +ANALYTIKOS [apprehensively]. Why do you say that? + +TSUMU [clutching her bosom]. I have a good reason to know. [There is a +sound of voices below in the courtyard. MENELAUS rushes in expectantly. +TSUMU falls prostrate before him.] Oh, King, in thy bottomless agony +blame not a blameless negress. The Queen has fled! + +MENELAUS [in his delight forgetting himself and flinging her a purse]. +Is it true? + +TSUMU. Woe! Woe is me! + +MENELAUS [storming]. Out of my sight, you eyeless Argus! + +ANALYTIKOS [to TSUMU]. Quick, send a messenger. Find out who he was. +[TSUMU sticks the third purse in her bosom and runs out.] + +MENELAUS [with radiant happiness, kneeling before the bust of Zeus]. +Ye Gods, I thank ye. Peace and a happy life at last. [The shouts in the +courtyard grow louder.] + +ANALYTIKOS. The news has spread through the palace. + +MENELAUS [in trepidation, springing up]. No one would dare stop the +progress of the Queen. + +TSUMU [rushes in and prostrates herself before the KING]. Woe is me! +They have gone by the road to the harbor. + +MENELAUS [anxiously]. Yes! Yes! + +TSUMU. By the King's orders no man has dared gaze upon Her Majesty. They +all fell prostrate before her. + +MENELAUS. Good! Good! [Attempting to cover his delight.] Go! Go! You +garrulous dog. [TSUMU gets up and points to shield. ANALYTIKOS and the +KING look toward it. ANALYTIKOS tears off the papyrus and brings it to +MENELAUS. TSUMU, watching them, exits.] + +MENELAUS [reading]. "I am not a bad woman. I did what I had to do." +How Greek to blame fate for what one wants to do. [TSUMU again comes +tumbling in.] + +TSUMU [again prostrate before the KING]. A rumor flies through the city. +He--he---- + +ANALYTIKOS [anxiously]. Well? Well? + +TSUMU. He--he---- + +MENELAUS [furiously to ANALYTIKOS]. Rid me of this croaking raven. + +TSUMU. Evil has fallen on Sparta. He---- + +ANALYTIKOS. Yes--yes---- + +MENELAUS [in a rage]. Out of my sight, perfidious Nubian. [Sounds of +confusion in the courtyard. Suddenly she springs to her feet and yells +at the top of her voice.] + +TSUMU. He was Paris, Prince of Troy! + +[They all start back. ANALYTIKOS stumbles into a seat. MENELAUS turns +pale. TSUMU leers like a black Nemesis.] + +ANALYTIKOS [very ominously]. Who can read the secret of the Fates? + +MENELAUS [frightened]. What do you mean? + +ANALYTIKOS. He is the son of Priam, King of Troy. + +TSUMU [adding fuel]. And of Hecuba, Queen of the Trojans. [She rushes +out to spread the news.] + +ANALYTIKOS. That makes the matter international. + +MENELAUS [quickly]. But we have treaties with Troy. + +ANALYTIKOS. Circumstances alter treaties. They will mean nothing. + +MENELAUS. Nothing? + +ANALYTIKOS. No more than a scrap of papyrus. Sparta will fight to regain +her Queen. + +MENELAUS. But I don't want her back. + +ANALYTIKOS. Can you tell that to Sparta? Remember, the King can do no +wrong. Last night I dreamed of war. + +MENELAUS. No! No! Don't say that. After the scandal I can't be expected +to fight to get her back. + +ANALYTIKOS. Sparta will see with the eyes of chivalry. + +MENELAUS [fuming]. But I don't believe in war. + +ANALYTIKOS [still obdurate]. Have you forgotten the oath pledged of old, +with Ulysses and Agamemnon? They have sworn, if ever the time came, to +fight and defend the Queen. + +MENELAUS [bitterly]. I didn't think of the triple alliance. + +ANALYTIKOS. Can Sparta ask less of her King? + +MENELAUS. Let's hear the other side. We can perhaps arbitrate. Peace at +any price. + +ANALYTIKOS. Some bargains are too cheap. + +MENELAUS [hopelessly]. But I am a pacifist. + +ANALYTIKOS. You are Menelaus of Sparta, and Sparta's a nation of +soldiers. + +MENELAUS [desperately]. I am too proud to fight! + +ANALYTIKOS. Here, put on your shield. [A great clamor comes up from +the courtyard. ANALYTIKOS steps out on the balcony and is greeted with +shouts of "The King! The King!" Addressing the crowd.] People of Sparta, +this calamity has been forced upon us. + +[MENELAUS winces.] We are a peaceful people. But thanks to our +unparalleled efficiency, the military system of Sparta is the most +powerful in all Greece and we can mobilize in half an hour. + +[Loud acclaims from the people. MENELAUS, the papyrus still in hand, +crawls over and attempts to stop ANALYTIKOS.] + +ANALYTIKOS [not noticing him]. In the midst of connubial and communal +peace the thunderbolt has fallen on the King.[MENELAUS tugs at +ANALYTIKOS' robe.] Broken in spirit as he is, he is already pawing the +ground like a battle steed. Never will we lay down our arms! We and +Jupiter! [Cheers.] Never until the Queen is restored to Menelaus. Never, +even if it takes ten years. + +[MENELAUS squirms. A loud cheer.] + +HELENA'S HUSBAND Even now the King is buckling on his shield. [More +cheers. ANALYTIKOS steps farther forward and then with bursting +eloquence.] + + One hate we have and one alone! [Yells from below.] + Hate by water and hate by land, + Hate of the head and hate of the hand, + Hate of Paris and hate of Troy + That has broken the Queen for a moment's toy. + [The yells grow fiercer.] + Zeus' thunder will shatter the Trojan throne. + We have one hate and one alone! + +[MENELAUS sits on the floor dejectedly looking at the papyrus. A thunder +of voices from the people.] + +We have one hate and one alone. Troy! Troy! + +[Helmets and swords are thrown into the air. The cheers grow tumultuous, +trumpets are blown, and the curtain falls.] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Washington Square Plays, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WASHINGTON SQUARE PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 3068.txt or 3068.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/3068/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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