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diff --git a/old/wspla10.txt b/old/wspla10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f07431 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wspla10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4013 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Washington Square Plays +by Various + +Includes: +1. The Clod . . . . . By Lewis Beach +2. Eugenically Speaking . By Edward Goodman +3. Overtones . . . . . By Alice Gerstenberg +4. Helena's Husband . . . By Philip Moeller + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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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. Any piracy +or infringement will be prosecuted in accordance with the +penalties provided by the United States Statutes: + + +SECTION 28. That any person who willfully and for profit shall +infringe any copyright secured by this Act, or who shall +knowingly and willfully aid or abet such infringement, shall be +deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction thereof shall +be punished by imprisonment for not exceeding one year or by a +fine of not less than one hundred dollars nor more than one +thousand dollars or both, in the discretion of the court. +SECTION 29. That any person, who with fraudulent intent, shall +insert or impress any notice of copyright required by this Act, +or words of the same purport, in or upon any uncopyrighted +article, or with fraudulent intent shall remove or alter the +copyright notice upon any article duly copyrighted shall be +guilty of a misdemeanor, punishable by a fine of not less than +one hundred dollars and not more than one thousand dollars. Act +of March 4, 1909. + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +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 rôles, 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 Etext of Washington Square Plays +by Various + diff --git a/old/wspla10.zip b/old/wspla10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bc6b3ee --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wspla10.zip |