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diff --git a/75451-0.txt b/75451-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3418b17 --- /dev/null +++ b/75451-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3988 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75451 *** + + + + + +[Illustration] + + _FERENC MOLNAR_ + + THE PLAY’S + THE THING + + [Illustration] + + _Adapted from the Hungarian + By_ P. G. WODEHOUSE + + [Illustration] + + BRENTANO’S + _Publishers_ _New York_ + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY CHARLES FROHMAN, INC. + +All rights, including stage, motion picture, and amateur production, +are reserved. No performance or public reading may be given without the +written consent of the author, or his recognized agents. Application +should be made to the author, in care of Charles Frohman, Inc. + +Manufactured in the United States of America + + + + +_On Thursday, October twenty-first, 1926, at Irving M. Lesser’s Great +Neck Playhouse, Great Neck, Long Island, the Charles Frohman Company, +Gilbert Miller, Managing Director, presented Holbrook Blinn in THE +PLAY’S THE THING by Ferenc Molnar, for the first time on any stage in +any language. The play was presented for the first time in New York +City under the same auspices at Henry Miller’s Theatre on Wednesday, +November the third, 1926. It was produced by Holbrook Blinn with the +following cast_:-- + + SANDOR TURAI HOLBROOK BLINN + MANSKY HUBERT DRUCE + ALBERT ADAM EDWARD CRANDALL + ILONA SZABO CATHERINE DALE OWEN + ALMADY REGINALD OWEN + JOHANN DWORNITSCHEK RALPH NAIRN + MELL CLAUD ALLISTER + LACKEYS { STEPHEN KENDAL + { JOHN GERARD + + + + +THE PLAY’S THE THING + + + + +THE CHARACTERS + + + SANDOR TURAI, A Famous Dramatist + MANSKY, His Collaborator + ALBERT ADAM, A Young Composer + ILONA SZABO, A Prima Donna + ALMADY, A Leading Actor + JOHANN DWORNITSCHEK, A Footman + MELL, The Count’s Secretary + TWO LACKEYS. + +The action takes place in a room in a castle on the Italian Riviera, on +a Saturday in summer. + + ACT I--2:00 A. M. + ACT II--6:00 A. M. + ACT III--7:30 P. M. + + + + +THE PLAY’S THE THING + + + + +ACT ONE + + + _As the curtain rises a distant orchestra is heard playing + Leoncavallo’s “Mattinata.” The stage is almost dark. The only light + comes through two large French windows at the back. Through them we + see the moonlit Mediterranean far below, the vague outlines of the + precipitous coast, twinkling lights along quays and esplanades, and + here and there the faint glow from some lighted window. A lighthouse + blinks intermittently in the far distance. Within the dark room three + darker shadows loom against the moonlit windows; the lighted ends of + three cigarettes prick the blackness. There is a long pause. It is + almost embarrassingly long. Just before one wonders if anything is + ever going to happen a man’s voice breaks the silence._ + +THE MAN’S VOICE. When you stop talking, Sandor, for sixty consecutive +seconds, there’s something wrong. + + [_One of the shadowy forms is seen to rise and cross to the right + wall. We hear the click of an electric switch and instantly the + stage is flooded with the warm glow of several electric sconces and + candelabra lamps. The light reveals a room beautifully furnished + in Italian Renaissance. At the back one shallow step leads up to a + raised portion which runs the whole width of the room. Behind it are + the French windows, now closed, with a balcony beyond them. To the + right a short flight of steps leads to a landing and a door to a + bedroom suite. To the left one step leads up to a door to the hall and + the remainder of the castle. Occupying the right wall of the lower + portion of the room is a great fireplace with a corbelled chimney. A + long table stands near it. At the left is a grand piano. Below the + piano in the left wall is a door to another bedroom. All these doors + are closed. Above the piano toward the center is a small stand with + a telephone on it. There are comfortable chairs here and there. The + ceiling is beamed and carved. The whole room reflects wealth and + beauty._ + + _The speaker, who has just lighted the room, is a large and portly man + of middle age. His name is_ MANSKY. _He is in a dinner jacket, as are + his two companions_, SANDOR TURAI _seated in the center, and_ ALBERT + ADAM _near the piano_. TURAI _is also middle aged, but younger-looking + and less portly than_ MANSKY. _A glance shows him to be a man of + consequence and dynamic personality. He is wearing a monocle._ ALBERT + ADAM _is a dreamy, handsome boy just over the threshold of manhood. + The distant orchestra has stopped playing._ MANSKY _reseats himself to + the right of_ TURAI, _and speaks again_.] + +What’s on your mind, Sandor? + +TURAI. I was just thinking how extraordinarily difficult it is to +begin a play. The eternal problem of how to introduce your principal +characters. + +ADAM. I suppose it must be hard. + +TURAI. It is--devilish hard. Up goes the curtain, there is a hush +all over the theatre, people come on the stage. Then what? It’s an +eternity--sometimes as much as a quarter of an hour before the audience +finds out who’s who and what they are all up to. + +MANSKY. I never saw such a fellow. Can’t you forget the theatre for a +single minute? + +TURAI. No. That’s why I’m such a great dramatist. + +MANSKY. You can’t be happy for half an hour unless you’re talking shop. +Life isn’t all theatre. + +TURAI. Yes, it is--if you write plays. You know what Alphonse Daudet +says in his Memoirs? When he stood by his father’s death-bed, all he +could think of was what a wonderful scene it would make for the stage. + +MANSKY. It’s silly to let your job become an obsession. + +TURAI. Well, that’s the theatre. Either you master it or it masters +you. And of all the brain-racking things in the world, beginning a play +is the worst. That’s where your technique comes in, my boy. Take this +scene here, for instance. We three--Curtain goes up on three ordinary +men in ordinary dinner jackets. How is anybody to know even that this +room we’re sitting in is a room in a castle? And how are they to know +who we are? If this were a play we would have to start jabbering about +a lot of thoroughly uninteresting things until the audience gradually +found out who we were. + +MANSKY. Well? Why not? + +TURAI. Think how much simpler it would be if we were to cut out all +that stuff and just introduce ourselves? [_He rises and addresses +the audience._] Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. We three arrived +to-night to spend a couple of weeks at this castle. We’ve just left the +dining-room where we did ourselves remarkably well with some excellent +champagne. My name is Sandor Turai. I am a playwright. I have been a +playwright for thirty years. I make a very good thing of it. I bow and +step back leaving the stage to you. + + [TURAI _steps back and_ MANSKY _steps forward and addresses the + audience_.] + +MANSKY. Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Mansky--I, too, am a +playwright, and this gentleman’s life-long collaborator. We are +probably the best-known firm in the business. + +TURAI. Come to Mansky and Turai for all comedies, farces and operettas. +Satisfaction guaranteed. + +MANSKY. I, too, make a very good thing out of it. + +TURAI. Which brings us-- + +MANSKY. --to the remaining member of the trio. + + [_They indicate_ ADAM _who rises and addresses the audience in similar + fashion but with more diffidence and none of their assurance_.] + +ADAM. The last _and_ least. I, ladies and gentlemen, am Albert Adam. I +am twenty-five years old and I compose music. + +TURAI. Very good music, too. + +ADAM. I have done the score for the latest operetta by these two kind +gentlemen. My first effort. They discovered me. They got me invited +to this castle. Regardless of expense, they bought me a complete +wardrobe. Without them I am a complete nonentity. I have no parents, no +reputation, and no money. + +TURAI. But--you’re young. + +MANSKY. And gifted. + +ADAM. And in love with the prima donna. + +TURAI. Don’t bother to tell them that. An audience takes it for granted +that the young composer is in love with the prima donna. It’s tradition. + +ADAM. Thank heaven. + +TURAI. [_Again addressing the audience._] Isn’t that the simplest way +to begin a play? + +MANSKY. Very crude. If that were all there was to it, any fool could +write plays. + +TURAI. A great many do. But you see how absurdly easy it is--All you +have to do is-- + +MANSKY. All right, all right, all right. For heaven’s sake, stop +talking shop. I’ve had enough. Save it for to-morrow. + +TURAI. Perhaps you’re right. Yes, it’s a treat to get a couple of hours +off for a change. Wonderful, that trip in the car--Italy!... And here +we are, free at last from the stuffy world of behind the scenes, out +of the reach of thin-skinned actors and thick-skinned managers. All +the year I’ve looked forward to these two weeks. A princely host and +a house full of smart people--just what men like ourselves need to +inspire us. And, mark this, my friends, nothing to worry about--for +our job is done. [_He goes to the window, opens it, steps on to the +balcony and speaks from there._] The operetta is finished and off our +minds. And, moreover, it is summer. The weather is perfect, the night +is gorgeous, the sea--is the sea, and the dinner was good. [_He comes +back into the room._] Yes, we must remember it. It’s been a great day. +August the 20th. + +MANSKY. Friday. + +TURAI. What of it? + +MANSKY. I wish it wasn’t. + +TURAI. Don’t be such an old woman! + +MANSKY. No one ought to arrive anywhere on a Friday. + +ADAM. [_Dreamily._] What difference does it make--Friday, Saturday, +Sunday--Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter--life’s always wonderful. + +TURAI. [_Crosses to_ ADAM.] _My_ unlucky day is Tuesday. Among other +things--[_To_ MANSKY.] you were born on a Tuesday. + +MANSKY. Well, look at it for yourself. Here’s to-day’s little bag +of bad luck. San Martino--mid-day--violent thunderstorm followed by +blow-out. Set us back an hour. Fiero--early afternoon--ran over dog, +surrounded by angry multitude, had to scatter money to every one in +sight to keep from getting mobbed. More delay, and we reach here at +ten instead of eight. Friday. And when we arrive, who is out? Our +princely host. Who else? Everybody. All gone off on a picnic. Friday. +And the beautiful, the one and only, the most vitally important member +of the whole house party--our adorable prima donna--where is she? +Also off on a picnic. Is she expected home to-night? No. When is she +expected? No one knows. Friday. + +TURAI. Oh, she’ll be back. + +MANSKY. Well, that won’t spoil Friday’s record, because it’s Saturday +now. + +ADAM. And I’ve got to wait a whole night before I see her. It’s cruel. + +MANSKY. Just Friday. + +TURAI. Well, now listen to _me_. I’ll give you _my_ version of the +day’s proceedings. Friday, San Martino--mid-day--capital luncheon +including some really drinkable coffee. During the meal, a few passing +drops of rain. Result: perfect roads--no dust. Fiero--early afternoon-- +Injured a dog and for a while it looked as though the populace were +about to injure _us_. But our Friday good luck held. The dog made +a miraculous recovery and when last seen was sitting up and taking +nourishment. And a few insignificant coins, judiciously distributed, +made the populace our friends for life. To resume. We arrived here some +hours late, but--what a bit of luck _that_ was. Everybody away, nobody +in the house to expect tired men to make conversation. Furthermore we +dine on a picturesque terrace of a wonderful old Italian castle and are +given as fine a curried chicken as I ever tasted. + +MANSKY. I loathe curry. + +TURAI. And in conclusion, let me tell you the crowning piece of good +fortune of this magical Friday. [_He indicates the door to the bedroom +at left._] The next room to this is Ilona’s. + +ADAM. What! + +TURAI. Yes, through that door is the room of the beautiful, the one and +only. And having a pull with the butler, I managed to get this suite +for ourselves. There’s luck for you. + +MANSKY. For him. + +TURAI. And for us. We profit indirectly. When a composer is happy +he writes song-hits. When a prima donna is happy, she stops singing +off the key. And the librettists gather royalties from the resulting +triumph. + +MANSKY. Sordid brute. You’ve no poetry in your soul. + +TURAI. But I have a balance in my bank--much more satisfactory. As for +Ilona being away, that’s good luck too. Think of the pleasant surprise +she will get. It is night. The little darling comes home from her +picnic. All unsuspecting, she goes to her little room, sinks upon her +little bed-- + +MANSKY. Why on earth must everything always be so little? + +TURAI. Why not? + +MANSKY. Damned sentimentalism. I know the house well. She has a _huge_ +room and an _enormous_ bed. + +TURAI. Immaterial. Quite immaterial. The point is that she comes home, +all unsuspecting. She doesn’t know we’re here. [ADAM _who has been +sitting dreamily at the piano begins playing softly_.] She doesn’t know +we’ve brought the finished operetta with us. She doesn’t know I’m going +to sing her the waltz song from Act Two-- + +MANSKY. God help her! + +TURAI. ... the world-famous waltz--[MANSKY _looks at him skeptically_] +at least, it’s not world-famous yet, but it’s bound to become so ... +anyway, the ravishing theme-waltz upon which this infant genius has +poured out all the treasure of his love-bewitched soul.... + + [ADAM _stops playing_.] + +MANSKY. Be quiet--never praise a composer. It unsettles him. [_Rises. +Looks at watch._] Do you know it’s after three--I have been thinking +and I’ve got an idea. + +TURAI. Beginner’s luck. + +MANSKY. Let’s go to bed. You can do any singing you want to-morrow. +If they’re not home yet, it means they’re staying out all night. I +know the ways of this house. We’ve been up since five and I’m all in. +Three hundred miles are chasing themselves through my head. As for your +infant genius with the love-bewitched soul, he’s asleep already. + +ADAM. [_Who has been nodding over the piano, awakens with a start._] +I’m not. + +TURAI. I’ve no objection to postponing the surprise-party. Suppose we +_wake_ her with the waltz. + +ADAM. If only she doesn’t find out before. + +TURAI. That’s all right. I particularly told my friend the butler that +nobody must know of our arrival till to-morrow morning. The butler is a +very important man. He practically runs this house. + +ADAM. [_Rising._] Then I’m going to take a bath. + +TURAI. I don’t follow your logic. What has the importance of the butler +to do with taking baths? + +ADAM. I hate logic. [_Starts toward the door at right, but stops to +gaze out of the window._] + +TURAI. Do you really intend to bathe at this hour? + +ADAM. Yes. + +TURAI. In the sea? + +ADAM. [_Stands by balcony door._] No. In the tub. [_The sound of a +distant orchestra is heard playing Toselli’s Serenade._] When you’re +tired and sleepy and looking forward to something particularly nice, +it’s wonderful to lie in luke-warm water with your eyes closed. + +TURAI. Hear! Hear! [_Sits in large armchair._] Well--Do as you please, +infant. When an artist is working he must pamper himself. [_To_ +MANSKY.] You have to humor these composers. Did you ever know his +grandmother? + +MANSKY. I had not that pleasure. + +TURAI. [ADAM _comes down the steps and sits down again_.] She brought +him up when his parents died. She was about _so_ high. The littlest old +woman I ever saw in my life. + +ADAM. Tiny, wasn’t she? + +TURAI. And the very opposite of this dreamy boy. Always hustling, +always on the go. It’s her fault that our young friend here has +always remained such an unsophisticated babe. She not only mothered +him--she smothered him with her love. She was like a little witch in +a fairy-tale guarding hidden treasure. I’ll never forget the day she +brought him to me, for the first time. + +ADAM. My goodness, I was scared that day. + +TURAI. So was I. This little half-portion of a woman fixed me with +blazing eyes and fairly hissed: “This boy is a _genius_. You _must_ +hear his _work_.” [_Pensively._] His mother was a gentle, beautiful +woman. + +ADAM. I hardly remember her. + +TURAI. I can see her--very clearly--_still_.... [_He rises and goes to +ADAM whom he pats affectionately on the shoulder_.] Ah, well, you’re +going to escape the struggles most young artists have before they reach +the top. No wasting of time and brain and nerve-energy for you. You’ve +got a very clever man behind you, pushing you on. + +[_Music stops._] + +MANSKY. [_Significantly._] _Two_ clever men. + +TURAI. Two? [_Laughs._] Ah, yes, of course, two. [_To_ ADAM.] So run +away and have your bath and sleep and dream and love and enjoy this +beautiful world and all that there is in it. Happiness will make your +music all the sweeter. + +MANSKY. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, encouraging him to be a +dreamer. He should be learning by this time that life isn’t all music +and roses and happiness. + +TURAI. Why be in such a hurry to teach him that? + +MANSKY. I’m not in a hurry. + +TURAI. Then why must he be in a hurry to learn it? + +ADAM. [_Who has run up the steps at right, pauses at the door._] This +is my room, eh? + +TURAI. Whose else could it be? Have you forgotten who is sleeping or +about to be sleeping on the other side of that wall? [_He indicates the +left wall._] + +ADAM. I should say I haven’t. + +TURAI. It’s rather a good situation. Lovers--and separated by a wall. +Like Pyramus and Thisbe. What is that speech of Pyramus’s? [_Speaking +to the left wall._] + + “And thou, oh wall, oh sweet, oh lovely wall! + Oh wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!” + +MANSKY. [_Impatiently._] Shop again! Always shop! + +ADAM. And what about you two? + +TURAI. We’re all right. Our room is on the other side of yours. + +ADAM. Are you sharing a room? + +TURAI. We have to. Real collaborators never separate for a moment, or +the most priceless ideas might be lost forever. Besides, I talk in my +sleep. I’m told that’s when I say some of my best things. Mansky is +a light sleeper, and he wakes up and jots them down. [MANSKY _rises +indignantly_.] + +ADAM. I think I’m going to like this place. Well, gentlemen, before I +go, one last word. I am very fond of both of you. I am finding life +very beautiful. And I am very happy. [ADAM _goes out. Once again the +distant orchestra is heard. This time playing the Brise Argentine._] + +TURAI. Which startling utterance seems to call for a glass of very old +brandy. [_He crosses to the bell rope on left wall and pulls it._] + +MANSKY. Make it two. + +TURAI. It’s nice to see the boy so happy. Now I’m on the shady side of +fifty, I find myself full of parental affection and nobody to lavish +it on. [_Reflectively._] Yes ... his mother was a gentle, beautiful +woman. [_He goes up to window, and looks down the cliff._] They’re +still dancing down there on the hotel terrace. With spot-lights on the +dancers. With that dark blue sky in the background and the coloured +lights on the water, that wouldn’t make a bad setting for a first act +finale. [MANSKY _who has just taken a cigarette from his case, snaps it +shut with irritation_.] Yes, I’m coming to think the boy’s right and +life is beautiful. + +MANSKY. Sandor. + +TURAI. Yes? + +MANSKY. I didn’t like to tell you before, though it really belongs to +Friday, too. + +TURAI. Tell me what? + +MANSKY. [_Sits on bench with the unconscious relish of the confirmed +pessimist._] Something rather unpleasant. A little piece of news. +Rather unpleasant. [_The music has stopped._ TURAI _who has been at the +window, turns toward_ MANSKY.] + +TURAI. You’re a queer chap. Just when a man’s feeling happy for five +minutes you have to come along and take the joy out of life. + +MANSKY. It concerns you, too. It’s rather unpleasant. + +TURAI. [_Going to_ MANSKY--_speaks ironically_.] Well, come on, old +friend. Ruin my evening. What is it? + +MANSKY. I was looking in the visitors’ book downstairs, and I saw a +certain name. [_Puffs cigarette._] Yes, it’s rather unpleasant. + +TURAI. Don’t sit there, making my flesh creep. What name did you see in +the visitors’ book? + +MANSKY. Almady. + +TURAI. The actor? + +MANSKY. Yes. + +TURAI. He’s here? + +MANSKY. He is. + +TURAI. H’m. This _is_, as you say, rather unpleasant. + +MANSKY. You realize what this means? + +TURAI. It means that you’re thoroughly happy. + +MANSKY. Not at all. I may be a pessimist, but unfortunately I’m a +tender-hearted pessimist. When I am proved right, I do not enjoy the +fact. The fact is that Mr. Almady is here. + +TURAI. But how? Why? He hasn’t been invited here for ten years. I +always understood he spent his summers with his wife and children at +Lake Balaton. + +MANSKY. I suppose he fished for an invitation. He probably had his +reasons. + +TURAI. Does our young friend know anything about that business? + +MANSKY. He hasn’t an inkling of the part Mr. Almady has played in his +fiancée’s life. + +TURAI. Well, hang it all, it wasn’t so much of a part. What does it +amount to? When she was starting on the stage he gave her lessons in +voice production. And then--well, it was just the usual business--the +romantic leading actor and the little pupil. The sort of thing that +lasts a couple of months at the outside. And, besides, it was all over +and done with long ago. + +MANSKY. Apparently it is _not_ over and done with. + +TURAI. Rot! Because by _pure_ chance he happens to be in the same house? + +MANSKY. It isn’t pure chance. It’s impure intention. Use your +intelligence, man. Ilona was Almady’s discovery--he taught her all she +knows. + +TURAI. That’s a thing of the past. Ilona’s intelligent. She’s in love +and she’s engaged to be married. And you know how whole-heartedly, how +passionately, an actress can be engaged when she _is_ engaged to be +married. I’m bound to say I’m not remarkably enthusiastic about this +match, but if it makes the boy happy that’s the main thing. My dear +chap, you’re crazy. She wouldn’t be such a fool ... with a worn-out +elderly actor--a father of a family--with four children. She’s got too +much sense. + +MANSKY. I never said a word about that. I merely said I had seen +his name in the visitors’ book. That means he is staying here. Is +that pleasant? No. It is unpleasant. That was all I said. I now say +something more. We _ought_ to have _wired_ Ilona that we were coming +to-night. + +TURAI. I admit it. You’re right again. So be happy. Never surprise a +woman. Always wire her in plenty of time. On several occasions in a +longish life I have prepared a joyful surprise for a woman, and every +time I was the one surprised. The telegraph was invented for no other +purpose than that women should not get surprises. [_There is a knock at +the door left._] Come in. [_A footman enters from the hall. He is an +elderly man in blue livery._] What do you want? + +FOOTMAN. What do _you_ want, sir? You rang, sir. + +TURAI. Oh, yes. Cognac. + +FOOTMAN. Any particular brand, sir? + +TURAI. [_To_ MANSKY.] Do me a favor, old man, and go up and keep Albert +talking for a few minutes. I want to have a few words with this fellow. + +MANSKY. Don’t drink both the brandies. [MANSKY _goes out through door +at right_.] + +TURAI. What’s your name? + +FOOTMAN. Mine, sir? + +TURAI. Yes, yours. + +FOOTMAN. Johann Dwornitschek, sir. + +TURAI. Johann? + +FOOTMAN. Dwornitschek. + +TURAI. Ah--Age? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Fifty-two, sir. + +TURAI. Born? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. + +TURAI. I should have said, where were you born? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Podmokly. In Tcheko-Slovakia, sir. + +TURAI. Nice place? + +DWORNITSCHEK. No, sir. + +TURAI. Ah--married? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir, thank you, sir. + +TURAI. Wife living? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Well, in a sense.... She ran away with a soldier two +years ago, sir--thank you, sir. + +TURAI. Don’t thank me--thank the soldier. You’re new here, I think? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. + +TURAI. When did you come? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Last summer, sir. + +TURAI. Thank you. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir. + +TURAI. No, no. Thank _you_. You’ve answered my questions most patiently. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Excuse me, sir, would it be taking a liberty if I +enquired why?... + +TURAI. Why I have asked those questions? Not at all. You’ll find +that out later on. But don’t alarm yourself. I’m not a detective. +Now--Johann Dwornitschek. Here are more questions. That room next +door there is Miss Ilona Szabo’s? [_He indicates the door at left to +bedroom._] + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. + +TURAI. Has she been gone long? + +DWORNITSCHEK. I have not seen her come in, sir. + +TURAI. Did you see her go out? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. They left at six o’clock this afternoon. + +TURAI. They? Who? + +DWORNITSCHEK. The entire house-party, sir, including the master. They +were going to San Pietro, I think, sir. + +TURAI. Is that far? + +DWORNITSCHEK. The yacht would take them there in about an hour and a +half. Twenty-six persons in all, sir. Supper served on board. A nice +cold collation, sir. + +TURAI. When do you expect them back? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Well, sir--they took a considerable quantity of liquor +with them. + +TURAI. The question I asked was “When do you expect them back?” + +DWORNITSCHEK. That is the question I’m answering, sir. Hardly before +to-morrow morning at the earliest. + +TURAI. I see. Who’s in the party? + +DWORNITSCHEK. The core or center of it, if I may use the expression, +sir.... + +TURAI. Certainly you may use the expression. It’s a beautiful +expression. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank you, sir. The core or center of it is an American +family, distant relatives of the master. Every time a holiday comes +around, they insist on a picnic. + +TURAI. What holiday is to-day? + +DWORNITSCHEK. I don’t know, sir. They have two every week here. They +always go off at night in the big yacht. They’re quite wild about the +young lady. She sings for them on the yacht. With the gypsy band. + +TURAI. Oh, they have gypsies, too? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. Four pieces. From the Hotel. But they’re not +much good. No--A gypsy’s not at his best, sir, on the water. Gypsies +need _solid_ ground. + +TURAI. Solid ground--yes, of course. Well, passing over the subject of +gypsies for a moment, if you don’t mind-- + +DWORNITSCHEK. Oh, no, sir. + +TURAI. Well, then lightly passing over the subject of gypsies, do you +know a Mr. Almady? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Oh yes, indeed, sir. I know Mr. Almady. I know Mr. Almady +very well. He has been here three days. + +TURAI. Here in the castle? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. In the old wing facing the park. + +TURAI. That would be on this floor? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir, on this floor. + +TURAI. And--he’s one of the yachting party, you say? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir, along with the young lady. + +TURAI. What do you mean, _along_ with the young lady? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Well, sir, he escorted her to the boat. They’re--you +might say--sort of partners. + +TURAI. How partners? + +DWORNITSCHEK. I mean, sir--well, working together--like--like--as it +were, partners. + +TURAI. I see. You mean partners. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. Partners. Mr. Almady gives recitations on the +boat. + +TURAI. How do you know that? + +DWORNITSCHEK. They took me with them, sir, last Tuesday. + +TURAI. Tuesday? It would be Tuesday. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir--Tuesday. + +TURAI. All right--Thank you.... + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir. Will that be all, sir? + +TURAI. Yes, that will be all. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Excuse me, sir, but you said that I would find out later +on.... + +TURAI. Why I began by asking you all those personal questions. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Exactly, sir. + +TURAI. Quite simple. It’s a little matter of psychology. When you +want a man to speak the truth, begin by making him tell you all about +himself. It gives him a feeling of responsibility and makes him afraid +to lie, later on. That’s from a detective-play by Mansky and Turai. You +can take the tip as some slight return for your trouble. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank you very much, sir. + +TURAI. Don’t mention it. + +DWORNITSCHEK. And which shall I bring you, sir? + +TURAI. Which? What which? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Which brand of cognac? + +TURAI. Which brands have you? + +DWORNITSCHEK. All the best brands, sir. Hennessey, Three Star Martel, +Biscuit, Dubouche, Rivière--Gardrat.... [_A door is heard to slam +somewhere at left._] Excuse me, sir. I rather think ... if you would +be good enough to remain quite quiet for just one moment ... I rather +fancy that’s the young lady coming back now. [_They listen. From the +adjoining room at the left a soprano voice is heard singing casually +but clearly a well-known aria from an operetta._] Yes, sir. That’s the +young lady all right. + +TURAI. [_Going up toward the door at right._] It is. It’s she. +Splendid. Then never mind the cognac. _Champagne_ is clearly indicated. +My favorite brand--Mumm’s Cordon Rouge. See that it’s iced and hurry it +along. Look sharp, man! + +DWORNITSCHEK. You wish it here--sir? + +TURAI. [_Going out at right._] Of course. Of course. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Very good, sir. [_Exit_ DWORNITSCHEK. _He goes out +through the door at left to the hall. The singing grows louder._] + +TURAI’S VOICE. [_In the room at right._] Hey! Stop that bath. You +haven’t time for baths now. She’s back! Sh! Hurry up. Quick, both of +you. [_The voices of_ MANSKY _and_ ADAM _are also heard_.] I tell you +she _is_. She’s in her room. Do be quick. I’ve ordered champagne. +Here, I’ll help you dress. [_The door at the right is closed from +the outside. From inside the adjoining room on the left the singing +continues until interrupted by_ ALMADY’S VOICE _raised in protest_.] + +ALMADY’S VOICE. What do you mean by this singing? I believe you’re +doing it just to annoy me. [_She trills a few notes._] You’re trying to +torture me. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Well--it’s pretty cool to come walking into my bedroom +at this hour. + +ALMADY’S VOICE. I came with you. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Now, listen. Everything’s over and ended. I’ve put you +out of my life forever. I’m engaged to be married and I intend to be a +good little wife. You’ve no right to behave like this. + +ALMADY’S VOICE. No right? I, who made you? I, with whom you have lived +so many hours of madness--wonderful, unforgettable-- + +ILONA’S VOICE. Not unforgettable at all. Watch how quickly _I’m_ going +to forget them. Do go away, and leave me alone. Don’t touch me. [_A +pause._] Stop. I won’t let you kiss me. Can’t you understand my fiancé +will be arriving any day now? + +ALMADY’S VOICE. I’ll kill him. + +ILONA’S VOICE. You’ll do nothing of the kind. [ALMADY _sobs loudly_.] +Oh, stop _crying_! The idea--a grown-up man, the father of a family, +with four children. + +ALMADY’S VOICE. But I love you so, Ilona. And you throw me over for +another man. Don’t you love me--still--just a little? + +ILONA’S VOICE. You’re nothing but a great big baby. Cheer up, do. +That’s better. All right, then, you _may_ kiss me. [_A pause while they +kiss._] What are you doing? Don’t take off your coat. + +ALMADY’S VOICE. I must. I want to say goodbye. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Well, you don’t need to say it in your shirt-sleeves. +[_Pause._] _Now_ run away and let me get some sleep. I’m worn out. + +ALMADY’S VOICE. I’m only waiting till you’re in bed. Is there anything +to drink here? + +ILONA’S VOICE. You’ll find it in the ante-room. Take the whole bottle +if you want to--but _go_. [_Pause. Shouting._] Look on the sideboard. +And stay where you are till I’ve got my nightie on. Don’t come _in_ +and don’t _look_. [_There is a silence during which the door right is +opened and_ TURAI, ADAM, _and_ MANSKY _tiptoe in like three mischievous +boys. They speak in whispers as they cross to the door to_ ILONA’S +_bedroom_.] + +TURAI. Hush! She’s gone to bed. + +ADAM. Do you think she’s asleep already? + +TURAI. I doubt it. Come on. Faces to the wall as close as you can get. +[_They group themselves in a row as near the wall as the furniture will +permit._] + +TURAI. [_Whispers._] Ready? Now ... Ilona, Ilona, Ilona ... take the +time from me. [_Raises his hand like a conductor; at the same moment_ +ALMADY’S _voice is heard_.] + +ALMADY’S VOICE. I worship you--I adore you. [_The three are riveted +where they stand, transfixed with amazement._] + +ILONA’S VOICE. Are you starting all over again? + +ALMADY’S VOICE. Yes, I am. All over again. I love you as the church +steeple loves the cloud that settles above it and floats away with the +first passing breeze. I can’t go on living without you. Not a week, not +a day, not an hour. [_The three men turn simultaneously._] + +ILONA’S VOICE. [_contemptuously._] Just words. + +ALMADY’S VOICE. It’s the truth. I’m crazy about you. And you--you’ve +used me up and squeezed me like a lemon, and now you want to throw me +away. + +ILONA’S VOICE. I don’t want to throw you away, silly. Where’s the sense +in raving like this? Oh, come on, then. Come here and let me kiss your +beautiful classic brow. + +ADAM. She said--did you hear what she said? + +ALMADY’S VOICE. That’s not a kiss--that’s a tip--Nothing but a paltry +tip. + +MANSKY. [_Sinks into chair._] + +ILONA’S VOICE. Don’t shout like that. + +ALMADY’S VOICE. I will shout. I’m a squeezed lemon. That’s what I +am--[_Sobs._] A lemon! The whole world shall know that I’m a lemon. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Get off your knees. And, oh, please, do stop crying. I +can’t bear it. You know how fond I am of you. [TURAI _and_ MANSKY _clap +their hands to their heads_. ADAM _collapses on the piano stool_.] + +ALMADY’S VOICE. Those nights of love--those flaming wonderful nights! +Have you forgotten them so completely? + +ADAM. [_Looking up._] That’s Almady. + +MANSKY. You can’t be sure. + +TURAI. [_Turns to_ MANSKY.] Don’t be an ass. Don’t try to deceive a +musician about a voice! There’s no use talking--the thing’s a tragedy +and we’ve got to face it. + +MANSKY. Friday! + +ILONA’S VOICE. Stop! Control yourself. + +ALMADY’S VOICE. You ask me to control myself--when I look at _that_--at +that perfect shape. The rose flush of that skin. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Hands off! + +ALMADY’S VOICE. My God! How round it is! How smooth, how velvety--and +how fragrant. [_A pause._] + +ILONA’S VOICE. Don’t bite! + +ALMADY’S VOICE. I must--I am _so hungry_.... + +TURAI. [_To_ ADAM _and patting him on the shoulder_.] I think you had +better go, old man. Go and turn in in our room. + +ADAM. [_Bitterly._] And I thought she was a Madonna. Holding her in his +arms--stroking--[_rising in sudden fury and rushing to the door_.] God, +I could kill him! + +TURAI. [_Restraining him._] Steady, old man, steady. [ADAM _covers his +ears with his hands_.] + +ALMADY’S VOICE. Ah, well! I see I am nothing to you any more. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Oh, for goodness sake. I swear that no man has ever +meant so much to me as you. From the top of your head to the soles of +your feet you are a _man_! Who should know that better than I? + +TURAI. Come, come, my boy--let’s get out of this. + +MANSKY. [_Goes to_ ADAM.] Come on, old chap. You’re going to sleep in +our room. [TURAI _and_ MANSKY _lead him to stairway_.] + +ADAM. Sleep! [_He goes out at right._ TURAI _and_ MANSKY _are on the +landing_.] + +ILONA’S VOICE. Oh! Don’t look so pathetic.... Well, come here--kiss me. + +MANSKY. I was right-- We ought to have sent a telegram. [_He goes out +at right._ TURAI _comes down to table, lights a cigarette and sits on +edge of table_.] + +ALMADY’S VOICE. I want you to remember that kiss forever. + +ILONA’S VOICE. It was your old kiss. Sweet and burning--like hot punch. +But do be a dear and go away now. It was mad of you to come here. If +my fiancé ever hears of this I’ll kill myself. Oh, damn my idiotic +sentimentality for getting me into this mess. You must leave here +to-morrow on the first train. He’ll be here any day now. [TURAI _shifts +uneasily_.] Every day I’ve been expecting a telegram. [TURAI _groans_.] +Get out, I tell you, get out! + +ALMADY’S VOICE. If you insist, dear heart, so be it! Your word is law. +I am going to bed now. Farewell, dear heart. But grant me one last kiss. + +TURAI. [_To himself._] Damn all fools who don’t know when they’ve had +enough. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Go _now_-- + +ALMADY’S VOICE. So be it. Good-night, dear heart. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Good-night, you baby. [_Silence. A door is heard +closing._] + +TURAI. [_To himself._] _At last!_ Good-night, dear heart! [_After a +moment he sits down in armchair. Pause._ MANSKY _re-enters_.] + +MANSKY. [_With a gesture of inquiry toward_ ILONA’S _room_.] This +silence--what does it mean? + +TURAI. This silence is a highly moral silence. The baritone hero has +departed. And the fair heroine has deposited herself in bed. + +MANSKY. After depositing _us_ in the worst mess in my whole experience. +Wasn’t it awful? + +TURAI. Awful! + +MANSKY. Smooth, round, fragrant! And he wanted to bi-- oh, my God! [_He +sits._] + +TURAI. Ten minutes ago we were three happy men. That poor boy! How is +he? + +MANSKY. I got him to bed. Poor little Pyramus. A jolly wall, that, +isn’t it? Church Steeple! Lemon! The damned fool. + +TURAI. I can’t look him in the face. That little old grandmother of +his--she’d let me have it with her broomstick if she were here. + +MANSKY. It’s certainly the most appalling mess. You got it through your +pull with the butler! Marvelous luck! Pyramus and Thisbe! “Oh sweet +wall!” Well, I hope you’re satisfied! + +TURAI. Oh, go to the devil. + +MANSKY. I don’t want to be unkind, but whichever way you look at it +you’re to blame for this catastrophe. Why the deuce was it necessary to +put the boy next door to his lady-love? Friendship _is_ friendship, +but there are limits. + +TURAI. I was merely trying to be sympathetic and helpful. I meant well. + +MANSKY. Never mean “well.” It’s fatal. See what’s happened as a result. +Bride gone--love gone--waltz gone--operetta gone. All a total loss. On +the other hand, the dog didn’t die and the coffee _was good_. Well, +Friday has certainly made a nice clean, efficient job of it _this_ time! + +TURAI. I’m only thinking about that boy. + +MANSKY. And I’m also thinking about our operetta. The lady kissed the +lemon’s classic brow. After this, can you see her playing the part? + +TURAI. Do stop jabbering about that side of it. I’m only interested in +the boy. Did he say anything? + +MANSKY. Plenty. I wish I hadn’t heard it. + +TURAI. What _did_ he say? + +MANSKY. One of his remarks was “I’ll tear up the score and kill Ilona.” +The round and fragrant one. And the problem that presents itself to me +is this: if he tears up his music and kills the prima donna, what sort +of a _first night_ shall we have? + +TURAI. [_Thinks a moment, then with emphasis._] We’ll have a first +night. I promise you that. + +MANSKY. What, after all this? + +TURAI. Yes, after all _this_. Don’t worry, we’ll have a first night all +right. + +MANSKY. With that music? + +TURAI. With that music and that composer and that prima donna. And I’ll +tell you some other things. We’ll have a hit, a wedding, and a happy +ending. + +MANSKY. Well, of all the optimists! It’s just a suggestion, but +wouldn’t it be a good idea if you were to mention just what you propose +to _do_. This is where Sandor Turai, famous for his happy endings, had +better try to surpass himself. [_Turns toward stairs._] Get busy, my +play-writing genius, and let’s see how good you are. + +TURAI. One can but do one’s best. [MANSKY _goes out at right. A +clock in the hall is heard to strike four._ TURAI _takes a blank +sheet of music from the piano. He paces up and down in deep thought, +occasionally glancing toward_ ILONA’S _room. He jots down a few words._ +MANSKY _re-enters_.] Well, how is he? + +MANSKY. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. That’s bad. He didn’t +even answer my question. + +TURAI. What did you ask him? + +MANSKY. I said: [_Plaintively._] “Feeling better now?” + +TURAI. What did you expect him to answer to a damn fool question like +that? + +MANSKY. Well, have _you_ solved the problem? + +TURAI. If I have I’m not going to tell you. You’ve ruined enough good +ideas of mine already with your collaboration. This time I mean to work +alone. Without a partner. [_Goes to table. Sits on bench._] All I ask +of you is a little information. There are a few _facts_ I require. + +MANSKY. [_Huffily._] That’s all I’m good for, is it? + +TURAI. That’s all. Where are Almady’s wife and family now? + +MANSKY. At Lake Balaton, I believe. + +TURAI. Lake Balaton. Address? + +MANSKY. Verona Cottage. + +TURAI. [_Putting it down._] Verona Cottage. What’s Ilona’s mother’s +name? + +MANSKY. Adele,--Alma, something. + +TURAI. Well, it begins with an A? + +MANSKY. Yes, I know that. + +TURAI. Thank God! Mrs. A. Szabo. What’s her address? + +MANSKY. 70 Elizabeth Avenue, Fured. + +TURAI. Would she be there now? + +MANSKY. [_Petulantly._] Oh God! How should I know? But, +listen--[_Points to_ ILONA’S _room_.] My own humble suggestion would be +to wake her up now and have a little chat. + +TURAI. What about? + +MANSKY. [_Starting across._] I’ll rout her out. [_Goes left._] + +TURAI. [_Excitedly._] For heaven’s sake, no! The only thing a woman can +do is deny everything. What could she deny? Could she unsay those words +of hers? Gloss over that mad sensual outburst? Explain her half-hearted +resistance? Of course, she might point out that it was nice of her to +forbid the man to bite. No, I can’t quite see where denials come in. + +MANSKY. Women have lots of other tricks. Falling on their +knees--fainting--bursting into tears--laughing hysterically--or just +going _rigid_ all over. + +TURAI. That might be good enough for you or me. When you’re a +middle-aged dramatist, you welcome a chance to do the noble, forgiving +business. It’s good theatre. But that boy in there is twenty-five and +he isn’t a dramatist. So think again. + +MANSKY. [_Collapsing hopelessly in armchair._] Then there’s no solution +to the problem. + +TURAI. There’s a solution to everything--one has only to find it. + +MANSKY. By Jove! Rather a good line, that. + +TURAI. Not bad. Jot it down. [MANSKY _does so, on his cuff_.] And now +the most important thing is--be very tactful and understanding with the +boy. Sit by his bed till he falls asleep. + +MANSKY. He won’t sleep to-night. + +TURAI. Give him something to make him ... he must have sleep. +To-morrow’s going to be a big day. One false move and he will be the +center of a record scandal. It would break his heart. And on his peace +of mind depends.... + +MANSKY. Our success. Capacity business. A year’s run. + +TURAI. Beastly words. + +MANSKY. And yet only yesterday--how beautiful they sounded! + +TURAI. Go away. I’ll take on this job. [_Rises._] Leave everything to +me, and base your confidence on past experience. Which shows the moment +_you_ stop trying to help me, I can solve anything. + +MANSKY. [_Bows stiffly and turns toward stairs._] Thank you, my dear +fellow. + +TURAI. Not at all. + +MANSKY. Good-night. + +TURAI. Good-night. See you to-morrow. Till then, don’t leave him for +an instant. That’s official. I’ve enjoyed our little talk so much. +Good-night. + +MANSKY. Good-night. [_Goes out at right._ TURAI _goes to table, sits +and jots down some more notes. There is a knock at door left to hall._] + +TURAI. Come in. [DWORNITSCHEK _enters with cooler and champagne, four +glasses on a tray_.] + +DWORNITSCHEK. The champagne, sir. Mumm’s Cordon Rouge--just as you +ordered. + +TURAI. [_Motioning it away._] ’M yes. But that was a long time ago. A +very long time ago. Since then the world has changed quite a good deal. +However, the motto of the Turais is “Never refuse champagne,” so put +it down. [DWORNITSCHEK _places tray on the table and the cooler on the +floor_.] + +DWORNITSCHEK. Will four glasses be sufficient, sir? + +TURAI. Three more than sufficient. [DWORNITSCHEK _leaves one glass on +the tray before_ TURAI, _he places the other three on the table. There +is a pause._ TURAI _stares at him_.] + +DWORNITSCHEK. Something in the expression of your eye, sir, tells me +that you are trying to remember my name. + +TURAI. Quite right. What is it? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Dwornitschek, sir. + +TURAI. Still Dwornitschek? Well, well! All right, Dwornitschek, you can +go to bed. + +DWORNITSCHEK. At what hour would you desire breakfast, sir? + +TURAI. What time is it now?-- + +DWORNITSCHEK. Quarter past four, sir.-- + +TURAI. Then let us say at seven--or perhaps six. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Anything special that you fancy, sir? + +TURAI. [_In offhand way._] No. Just ham, eggs, cold chicken, smoked +salmon, cold beef, bacon, butter, milk, honey, jam, rolls and tea. + +DWORNITSCHEK. With lemon? + +TURAI. [_Shouts with revulsion._] No! [_Quietly._] No--with rum. + +DWORNITSCHEK. [_Starts to go._] Very good, sir. At six precisely. + +TURAI. Tell me, Dwornitschek, when do you sleep? + +DWORNITSCHEK. In the winter, sir. + +TURAI. What are you waiting for? + +DWORNITSCHEK. I was wondering if there were any more questions you +desired to ask me, sir. + +TURAI. No, thank you. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir. + +TURAI. No, no, thank YOU. + +DWORNITSCHEK. I love being asked questions, sir. It shows that +gentlemen take an interest. + +TURAI. You mean in Dwornitschek, the man? As opposed to Dwornitschek, +the servant? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. You are sure you have nothing more to ask, sir? +It would be a treat for me. + +TURAI. Nothing more, thanks. My stock of knowledge for to-day is +complete. I wish it weren’t. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Then I will bid you good-night, sir. [_Starts to go._] + +TURAI. Good-night.... One moment! There is one other thing. Where is +the writing paper? And I’d like some telegraph blanks too. And ink, and +also a pen. + +DWORNITSCHEK. The writing materials are in the library, sir, but I can +bring them to you here. [_Starts to go._] + +TURAI. Don’t bother. I’ll do my writing in the library. It’s a good +idea. No chance of being interrupted. [_Rises and goes up the first +step._] + +DWORNITSCHEK. I’ll go and turn on the lights, sir. + +TURAI. One moment. [_Points to champagne._] That--can come too. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Very good, sir. [_Takes cooler and one glass._] + +TURAI. [_Pausing._] After you. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Oh no, sir. + +TURAI. My dear Dwornitschek, I insist. You’re sure that really _is_ +your name? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Oh yes, sir. + +TURAI. I only wondered. Thank you. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir. + +TURAI. No, no. Thank YOU. [DWORNITSCHEK _goes out_. TURAI _puffs his +cigarette, gazes for a moment at the wall of_ ILONA’S _room, sighs and +then goes out at left as the curtain falls_.] + + + + +ACT TWO + + + _As the curtain rises a clock in the hall is heard to strike six. + Golden sunlight pours in the windows. The Mediterranean is as blue + as tradition has painted it._ SANDOR TURAI, _now jauntily attired + in white flannels is seated in the armchair at the center, with the + loose leaves of a manuscript before him. As the clock stops striking, + the door at left to the hall is opened by_ DWORNITSCHEK, _who comes + down to_ TURAI, _bringing a newspaper on a salver_. DWORNITSCHEK _is + followed by two lackeys in livery, each carrying an enormous silver + tray piled high with_ TURAI’S _breakfast. During the dialogue that + follows, the lackeys place the breakfast upon the long table at the + right. This done, one of them stands at attention while the other goes + up to the window, opens it, steps out on the balcony and lowers an + awning which shuts off some of the now too brilliant sunlight._ + +DWORNITSCHEK. Good morning, sir. + +TURAI. Good morning. What’s this? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Morning paper, sir. + +TURAI. You’ve read it, of course? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Oh yes, sir. + +TURAI. Anything about me in it? + +DWORNITSCHEK. No, sir. + +TURAI. Then take it away. + + [DWORNITSCHEK _gives salver with the newspaper to one of the lackeys + and motions both off_.] + +DWORNITSCHEK. Let me see, sir, I _think_ it was ham, eggs, cold +chicken, smoked salmon, cold beef, bacon, butter, milk, honey, jam and +rolls that you ordered, was it not? + +TURAI. Quite right. + +DWORNITSCHEK. And tea with lemon. + +TURAI. [_With revulsion._] Not lemon! + +DWORNITSCHEK. There’s rum, sir--or cognac, if you prefer. + +TURAI. Pardon my emotion--I loathe lemons. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. Many people do. I had an aunt-- + +TURAI. Suppose we don’t talk about your aunt just for the moment. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Very good, sir. + +TURAI. Later on, perhaps. + +DWORNITSCHEK. At any time that suits _you_, sir. + +TURAI. You must make allowances for the artistic temperament. When I +have been sitting up all night writing, I somehow don’t feel in the +vein for discussing other people’s aunts. You understand, don’t you? + +DWORNITSCHEK. I quite understand, sir. + + [TURAI _has risen and crossed to the table, upon which he has put the + manuscript. He now goes round to the right side where his place is + set, he examines the breakfast with evident satisfaction. He lifts + the covers from several silver dishes, looks at their contents with + pleasure, and smiles at_ DWORNITSCHEK _with approval_.] + +TURAI. You’re really a wonderful fellow. How on earth did you manage +not to forget anything? + +DWORNITSCHEK. It was a labour of love, sir. My heart is in that +breakfast. + +TURAI. [_Sitting down._] Your heart, _too_? [_After he has taken a sip +of tea._] Ah! that puts new life into a man. + +DWORNITSCHEK. You must have had very little sleep, sir. + +TURAI. Not much. + +DWORNITSCHEK. I hadn’t any. + +TURAI. Yes, I remember you told me you were essentially a hibernating +animal. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Nobody else is stirring as yet. This is the time when I +sometimes manage to lie down myself for a few moments. + +TURAI. Then you will get some sleep, after all? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Just forty winks, sir. That’s the advantage of being +by the sea. Gentlemen stay in bed till noon. Very different from the +mountains. + +TURAI. [_Who throughout this dialogue is eating and drinking with +relish and satisfaction._] They get up early in the mountains, eh? + +DWORNITSCHEK. At about five or four-thirty. They like to go climbing. +But there’s always a bright side, sir; they go to bed at nine. + +TURAI. You know, you’re broadening my mind tremendously. Every time I +see you, I learn something new. + +DWORNITSCHEK. If it’s not a liberty, sir, I should like to say +something. + +TURAI. I’ll bet it’s something good. Go on. + +DWORNITSCHEK. You ought to take more care of your health, sir. You +don’t get enough sleep. + +TURAI. _I_ don’t?! + +DWORNITSCHEK. And you smoke too much, sir. I found at least fifty +cigarette-butts in the ashtray in the library. + +TURAI. Wrong. Thirty-seven. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Too many, sir. + +TURAI. What’s your daily allowance? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Fifteen, sir. + +TURAI. You’ll live to be a hundred. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank you--is that a medical opinion, sir? + +TURAI. No--just a hope. This weary world needs men like you. + +DWORNITSCHEK. No, no, sir. Like _you_. + +TURAI. Well, shall we say like both of us? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Would it be a liberty, sir, if I expressed the opinion +that you have a heart of gold? + +TURAI. Not at all. Thank you very much. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir. + +TURAI. No, no. Thank YOU. + +DWORNITSCHEK. It’s the way you take an interest that touches a man, +sir. I wish there was something I could do for _you_. + +TURAI. At the moment, I think the best thing you can do for me is to +leave me alone. And if anyone asks for me, tell them I’m sleeping and +must not be disturbed. Understand? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Oh, yes, indeed, sir. + + [DWORNITSCHEK _starts to exit_. TURAI _stops him_. TURAI _pantomimes_ + “Wait a minute. I must remember your name.” _He registers despair._ + DWORNITSCHEK _smiles indulgently and whispers_ “Dwornitschek.”] + +TURAI. Thank you. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir. + + [_He goes out at the left to hall._] + + [TURAI _rises, listens at staircase, then goes to the telephone and + takes up the receiver_.] + +TURAI. Hello. Will you give me Miss Ilona Szabo’s room? + + [_He waits. Telephone bell rings loudly in the room at the left. After + a pause it rings again._] + +ILONA’S VOICE. [_Sleepily._] YES??? + +TURAI. [_Speaks into telephone, very mildly._] Hello. + +ILONA’S VOICE. HELLO!!! + +TURAI. [_Softly._] Hello. + +ILONA’S VOICE. WHO’S THAT? + +TURAI. The unfeeling brute who has aroused you from your slumber is +known to the police as Sandor Turai. + +ILONA’S VOICE. [_Changing in a flash, delighted._] Sandor! Dear old +Sandor! + +TURAI. Well, and how’s the prima donna? + +ILONA’S VOICE. Where are you speaking from? + +TURAI. Next door. + +ILONA’S VOICE. What! + +TURAI. I thought you’d be surprised. I’m in the next room. + +ILONA’S VOICE. How on earth?... + +TURAI. My dear little Ilona, let’s postpone the explanations. I want to +see you at once--immediately. + +ILONA’S VOICE. [_Anxiously._] You’re frightening me. What is it? + +TURAI. [_Deliberately puts down the receiver and speaks toward the +wall._] Don’t get alarmed. [_Lights cigarette at piano._] Come in here +at once. This minute. + +ILONA’S VOICE. This minute? + +TURAI. This very minute. [_Taps door at left._] Open this door. Put +something on. + +ILONA’S VOICE. What? + +TURAI. Anything you have. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Do what? I can’t hear. There must be something wrong +with the telephone. + +TURAI. [_Goes to the wall._] Put something on and come in here at once. +Can you hear better now? + +ILONA’S VOICE. Yes, I can hear beautifully now. + +TURAI. Good. + +ILONA’S VOICE. I’ll be right in. [TURAI _goes back to the telephone +and hangs up the receiver. There is a short pause. Then the door at +left to bedroom is thrown open and_ ILONA SZABO _enters. She is an +extraordinarily beautiful, blonde young woman. Having just got out of +bed and slipped a flimsy alluring negligee over her nightie, she is +somewhat dishevelled. Her golden hair is awry. Moreover she is, at the +moment, more than anxious, her apprehension and fright are close to +panic._] Sandor--what is it? I feel something terrible has happened. +What’s the matter? When did you get here? + +TURAI. [_Calmly._] Sit down, my dear. You and I have got to do some +quick talking. + +ILONA. But what’s _happened_? For heaven’s sake, tell me! + +TURAI. Sit down. + +ILONA. Why? + +TURAI. Because if you don’t sit down now, you’ll sit down later on when +you hear what I’ve got to say--and you’ll sit down _hard_. Better do it +gracefully while you can. + + [_He pushes her gently into the armchair at center._] + +ILONA. I don’t understand. + +TURAI. You will. My dear little Ilona, in spite of the fact that you +are engaged to my young friend Adam, you are still carrying on an +affair with Mr. Almady. + +ILONA. [_With indignation._] It’s an outrageous lie. + +TURAI. Good! I thought you were going to say it was none of my business. + +ILONA. I couldn’t say that, because you’re Albert’s guardian, guide, +philosopher and friend and God knows what else. And you’re a friend of +_mine_ and write plays for me. So I simply say that it’s a lie. + +TURAI. I’m glad you do, because it’s an observation which I can answer. +I’ve been in this room since last night and the walls in this new wing +are as thin as paper. + +ILONA. [_Looks at walls. As the truth dawns upon her she is +horrified._] Good God! + +TURAI. Lemon. [ILONA _hides her face_.] Lemon.... Church steeple. Well, +dear Ilona. Suppose we talk this over? Something’s got to be done--and +done quickly. + +ILONA. If you heard, you heard what _I_ said too. + +TURAI. Every word. + +ILONA. Then you know that I told him to get out--and he’s _getting_ out +to-day. At twelve o’clock. So, if you don’t say anything--and of course +you won’t.... + +TURAI. Not quite so fast, please. If the thing were as simple as that, +you would never have known from me that I had overheard you. I regret +to say matters are much more unpleasant. + +ILONA. [_Sinking back in chair._] My God! You don’t mean?... + +TURAI. I see you’ve guessed. + +ILONA. Did--did--I can’t say it. + +TURAI. I will say it for you. Yes, the boy _did_ hear it, too. + +ILONA. [_Looks at_ TURAI.] God!... He’s _here_ then? + +TURAI. He is here. + +ILONA. Where? + +TURAI. Sh! He’s up in Mansky’s room--asleep. And last night he was in +this room--awake. + +ILONA. [_Rises, goes toward her room._] I’ll take veronal, all there is +in my bottle. + +TURAI. That’s not enough. + +ILONA. [_Turns._] Ten ounces. + +TURAI. I was not referring to the veronal. I mean suicide is no +solution. + +ILONA. There isn’t any solution that I could survive. [_Dramatically._] +There are only two things I can possibly do--kill myself or deny the +whole story. + +TURAI. Deny the whole story? Do you suppose if it were just a question +of telling lies, I would have troubled you? I’d have told them myself +long ago. + +ILONA. Then we come back to the veronal. + +TURAI. Exactly. We come back to the veronal--and find it safely tucked +away in its bottle. + +ILONA. Well, what _do_ you suggest? + +TURAI. I have my plan. And all I ask of you is not to hinder it. + +ILONA. [_Almost crying._] You know I worship Albert. If anybody knows +that, you do. I’ve been a different woman since I met him. He looks +on me as a saint. [TURAI _gives her a quick ironic glance_.] And he’s +right. I _have_ turned into a saint since I began to love him. It was +the only thing I wanted to do in life--to keep straight for his sake. I +was so happy. [_She sinks into armchair crying._] I love him so. + +TURAI. And yet you can’t be true to him. + +ILONA. [_Indignantly._] You’ve no right to say that. It was nothing +but my damned sentimentality. You know very well that affair with that +beast Almady didn’t last a couple of months. First he gave me breathing +lessons and taught me how to throw my voice-- + +TURAI. [_With a significant glance._] Yes, he taught you that, all +right. + +ILONA. I’m just a victim of my kind heart. I thought I was rid of him, +but he got himself invited here. And he’s always bursting into tears. +A woman hates to see a man cry. He stuck to me like a leech. [_Rises +and stalks about hysterically._] But why on earth would I want to start +in with him again? I give you my word, Sandor, that last night was +simply--like the last dying vibrations of a high note. + +TURAI. You’d have done better to stop vibrating a little earlier. +Still, there it is. What we’ve got to do now is--get you out of the +mess. + +ILONA. [_Runs across to_ TURAI _and throws herself on her knees, +clasping him beseechingly_.] Sandor! Sandor darling! Do you really +think you _can_? + +TURAI. Yes, I can. But don’t think I’m doing it for your sake, my dear; +not for the sake of your beautiful eyes. You deserve to be drawn and +quartered. I’m doing it for that poor decent boy who still retains a +few ideals in this unpleasant world. Yes, my dear Ilona, I think I must +ask you to be a little ashamed of yourself. + +ILONA. [_Bitterly._] Don’t worry. [_Rises._] I am. What can I do? + +TURAI. [_Goes to telephone._] I am just going to tell you. And you +won’t enjoy it. Still, good medicine’s rarely pleasant. [_Picks up +receiver._] Hello. [_To_ ILONA.] What’s the number of Almady’s room? + +ILONA. [_Apprehensively._] What do you want with him? + +TURAI. [_Into the telephone._] Give me Mr. Almady’s room, please. +[_Pause._] Never mind about all that, my good man. I don’t care what +instructions he left--call him. And go on ringing till he answers. It’s +a matter of life and death. + +ILONA. What are you doing? + +TURAI. [_In telephone._] Mr. Almady? Yes, yes, I know you gave +instructions.... Will you please be quiet for a moment?... This is +Sandor Turai speaking. Here in the new wing.... Last night, by car.... +Good morning--you were awake already! Capital! Would you mind coming +here at once. Room number four.... Yes, I mean NOW, right away.... Yes, +matter of life and death was what I said, but I made a slight error. I +should have said a matter of death--Yes, yes, this very minute--right. +[_He hangs up the receiver._ ILONA _starts to go_.] Where are you off +to? + +ILONA. If Almady is coming here?... + +TURAI. You will kindly stay just where you were. + +ILONA. [_Looking toward_ ALBERT’S _bedroom at right, crying_.] He +looked on me as a saint. He thought I was everything that was fine and +pure. He called me his Madonna. + +TURAI. You should have thought of that a long time ago. + +ILONA. Tell me--what did Albert say? + +TURAI. I wouldn’t ask that if I were you. + +ILONA. God! What was the plan you said you had?... Can’t you speak? + +TURAI. Patience. + +ILONA. It’s too cruel.... Just because I hate hurting people’s +feelings.... [_She breaks off as a knock sounds on the door left to +hall._] + +TURAI. Come in. + + [ALMADY, _who enters is also in a state of nervous apprehension. + He is attired in elaborate, not to say loud, house pajamas. A tall + and but recently handsome man, now well into middle age._ ALMADY + _is first, last and always the actor. He dramatizes every moment of + his existence. He does not walk, he struts; he does not talk, he + declaims._] + +ALMADY. Good morning. [_Sees_ ILONA, _surprised_.] Hullo. _You_ here? + +TURAI. Yes, she’s here. + +ALMADY. But what’s the matter? Has something happened? + +ILONA. Oh, do sit down. + +TURAI. [_Grimly._] He’ll sit down quite soon enough. I’m not afraid of +_his_ not sitting down. + +ALMADY. [_To_ TURAI.] You’ll forgive me if I seem nervous.... + +TURAI. Glass of brandy? + +ALMADY. Thank you. [_Deliberately._] _Never_ in the morning. + +TURAI. Mr. Almady, you are a married man and the father of a family. +And you are forcing your attentions on another man’s fiancée. + +ALMADY. [_Indignantly._] It’s an outrageous lie. + +TURAI. Good. I thought you were going to say it was none of my +business. You would have been quite right. But a lie--no, I’m afraid +that won’t do. + +ALMADY. [_Aggressively._] Mr. Turai, I would have you know-- + +TURAI. Shut up! + +ALMADY. [_Outraged._] “Shut up!” + +TURAI. [_Significantly._] Lemon! [ALMADY _sits down abruptly_.] I told +you he’d sit down. [ALMADY _looks at the left wall_.] Yes, quite +right. It’s as thin as paper. + +ALMADY. [_Rises._] Now come, Mr. Turai, between two gentlemen.... + +TURAI. I beg your pardon? + +ALMADY. As one gentleman to another, I ask your discretion.... + +TURAI. Sit down. + +ALMADY. [_Sitting down anxiously._] Why? Is there something else coming? + +TURAI. [_Crosses to right and listens at staircase._] Yes, there is +something else coming. Are you sitting down? + +ALMADY. Yes. + +TURAI. Then listen. I wasn’t the only one who heard everything. Her +fiancé was in this room with me at the time, and his hearing is +excellent. + +ALMADY. [_Strangling._] Brandy! + +TURAI. [_Pouring it out._] In the morning? [_Gives_ ALMADY _the +brandy_.] + +ALMADY. I always take it in the morning. [_He gulps it down._] + +ILONA. Well, what are you going to do now, you miserable idiot, you? +You see what you’ve done. You’ve driven me to suicide. Oh God! I shall +die. I shall die! + +ALMADY. [_Rising melodramatically._] I’ll die with you! + +ILONA. I don’t want you! I’m going to die alone. + +ALMADY. [_Pompously._] I am ready to give him satisfaction. + +TURAI. That’s the last straw. [_As_ ALMADY _starts to speak_.] I’ll +tell you what you are going to do. You are going to do just as I order. + +ALMADY. [_Starting up._] Order? + +TURAI. Sit down. + + [ALMADY _sits down_.] + +ILONA. Yes--order. [_To_ TURAI--_rapidly_.] Tell us, please. Never mind +how much he rants. + +ALMADY. [_Indignantly._] Rants! You dare to criticise my diction? + +TURAI. Oh! Damn your diction! Just thank your stars that I’m going +to get you out of this. A married man! Father of a family. With four +children at home--four little lemons! [ALMADY _rises_.] One word from +you, and this telegram, all ready and written, goes off to your wife. + + [ALMADY _looks again at wall and groans_.] + +ILONA. Look at him. Don’t look at the wall. Last night was the time to +have done that. + +TURAI. In that room next door--last night--something occurred. + +ILONA. [_Ashamed._] Yes, yes, _please_. We know what occurred. + +TURAI. That is just what you don’t know. You are now going to hear. +What occurred was the rehearsal of a play. Do you grasp my meaning? + +ILONA. In the middle of the night? + +TURAI. In the middle of the night. + +ALMADY. How do you mean--the rehearsal of a play? + +TURAI. Your very loud remarks, so loud that they actually penetrated +the wall--were dialogue from a play. Now, do you understand? + +ILONA. I do. [_To_ ALMADY.] Don’t you--idiot? [_Rises._] It’s the most +marvelous, wonderful idea, you old darling.... + + [_She is just about to embrace_ TURAI, _when she stops in + consternation_.] + +TURAI. What’s the matter? + +ILONA. It’s no good. He’d never believe it. + +TURAI. Why wouldn’t he believe it? + +ILONA. Where on earth is there a play with lines in it like those? + +TURAI. Where? [_Picking up pile of papers from the table._] Here. + +ILONA. What do you mean? + +TURAI. [_Pointing._] Here you are. Here’s the play. This is it. + +ILONA. Who wrote it? + +TURAI. I did. Don’t stare at me, my dear child, with those starry eyes +of blue. [_Sits on bench._] Rather ask when I wrote it. + +ILONA. When could you have written it? + +TURAI. This morning--between four and six. After all, one is either a +playwright or one isn’t. Half of it I heard through the wall; the other +half I wrote to fit. In this life, everyone has to fight with his own +weapons. My weapon is the pen! And, on this occasion I hope it will +prove considerably mightier than the sword. I am feeling this morning +like an acrobat, who for once has the chance to use his skill to save +a life. I don’t suppose any play has ever yet been written with such +purely altruistic motives. Well, there you are. There’s the play. Read +it--learn it and play it. + + [_He gives her the manuscript._] + +ILONA. _Play_ it? + +TURAI. Naturally you must play it. How else can you make him believe +without a shadow of doubt that what you were saying last night was +just dialogue? Off you go. Dress rehearsal early this evening. Opening +to-night. + +ALMADY. To-night? But where? + +TURAI. At the concert, of course. After dinner in the ballroom. [_To_ +ILONA.] You’re down on the programme already for something or other. + +ILONA. A couple of songs. [_Contemptuously._] He’s to recite some poems. + +TURAI. Then there’ll be a slight change in the programme. He’ll act +with you instead--a one-act play. + +ILONA. [_Looking at script._] But how on earth can I learn all this by +to-night? + + [ALMADY _goes to window_.] + +TURAI. Well, really! Last night you knew it well enough. [ALMADY _sighs +deeply_.] What’s the matter with you? + +ALMADY. [_Comes down._] Mr. Turai, that was a sigh of relief. Do you +_know_ my wife? + +TURAI. I do. Didn’t I tell you that it was a matter of death? + +ALMADY. How can I ever thank you? + + [_He holds out his hand._ TURAI _ignores it_.] + +TURAI. Don’t bother to try. If you think I’m doing this for your sake, +my good man, you’re greatly mistaken. Unfortunately, my life-saving +apparatus is so constructed that you automatically have to be rescued, +too. + +ILONA. Oh, but listen.... + +TURAI. Now what is it? + +ILONA. What earthly reason could we have had for rehearsing at three in +the morning? + +TURAI. That’s what I ask myself, but I answer myself--quite simple. You +had to play the thing to-night. You’d lost a lot of time on a picnic. +Every moment was precious. You were so conscientious that when you came +home you insisted on rehearsing even though it was three o’clock in the +morning. + +ILONA. Well, we’d better go and start studying at once. I’m a very slow +study. + +TURAI. One minute. Don’t get excited. Who’s supposed to be running this +concert? + +ILONA. The Count’s secretary, Mr. Mell. + +TURAI. We must notify him of this change in the programme. [_Goes to +telephone._] Hello.... Give me Mr. Mell’s room, please. + +ILONA. But he’ll be asleep. + +TURAI. Oh no, my dear. Not after this telephone bell has rung once or +twice. [_He hands_ ILONA _the receiver_.] There you are--ladies first. + +ILONA. [_Taking telephone._] But what am I to say? + +TURAI. Keep calm. I’ll prompt you. + +ILONA. Hello! Is that Mr. Mell? Yes, it is early, isn’t it? + + [_She looks at_ TURAI _for directions_.] + +TURAI. Good morning. + +ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] Good morning. + +TURAI. How did you sleep? + +ILONA. [_Her hand over the receiver._] I _can’t_ say that. The poor man +is furious. + +TURAI. [_Shrugging._] Use your own judgment, then. + +ILONA. [_Into the telephone in her most seductive manner._] Dear Mr. +Mell! [_Coos._] I’m so dreadfully sorry to wake you up at this hour, +but I wanted to tell you that there will be a little change in the +programme to-night. I’m sure the Count will be pleased. I’m sure you +will be pleased. I’m sure the audience will be pleased. + +TURAI. Unanimous. + +ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] Instead of working alone, I’m going +to appear with Mr. Almady. Yes, Mr. Almady. In an extremely witty, +charming, brilliant little duologue. [TURAI _bows_. ILONA _listens at +the telephone for a moment. Then she turns to_ TURAI _and asks, as if +she were still speaking to_ MELL.] What kind of a play is it? + +TURAI. French. + +ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] French. [_As before._] Who wrote it? + +TURAI. Geraldy. + +ILONA. Geraldy, I believe.... [_Pause._] Oh, isn’t that nice! + +TURAI. [_Apprehensive._] What’s nice? + +ILONA. [_Hand over receiver._] He says he knows every line that Geraldy +ever wrote. + +TURAI. Then it’s by Sardou. + +ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] No, I’m sorry. I’ve just been looking at +the script again. It’s not by Geraldy; it’s by Sardou. + +TURAI. The Great Sardou. + +ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] The Great Sardou!... Indeed? + +TURAI. How is he up on Sardou? + +ILONA. [_Covering receiver._] He says the only thing of Sardou’s he +knows is Hedda Gabbler. + +TURAI. [_Delighted._] That’s the man for us! + +ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] That’s the man for us. + +TURAI. No, no, no! That last remark was supposed to be confidential. + +ILONA. Good-bye, and thank you so much, Mr. Mell. You’ve been so +sweet.... Oh, of course--as if we’d dream of having anybody but you as +a prompter!... The title? + +TURAI. A tooth for a tooth! + +ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] A truth.... + +TURAI. Tooth, tooth. + +ILONA. A tooth for a tooth.... Yes, isn’t it? Quite snappy. [_Coos._] +Good-bye. [_She hangs up receiver and turns to_ TURAI.] Why a _French_ +piece? + +TURAI. Merely to ensure that nobody will know who wrote it. That’s the +beauty of French literature--there’s such a lot of it. Besides, one +has one’s conscience. I’ve stolen so much from the French in my time +that it’s only fair I should give _them_ something for a change. And +now that everything seems to be working out all right, let me say with +all the emphasis at my disposal--get out. Go and study! [_To_ ALMADY.] +And--so that no one will recognize my handwriting--_you_ have got to +copy out the script. + +ALMADY. All of it? + +TURAI. From beginning to end. + +ALMADY. You think of everything. + +TURAI. Unlike a certain Southern fruit. + +ILONA. [_Who has been looking through the script._] Oh, but this isn’t +right. + +TURAI. What isn’t? + +ILONA. This line. You make me say “Your kiss is revolting to me.” What +I really said was.... + +TURAI. “That was your old kiss. Sweet and burning like hot punch.” I +know. My memory is excellent. But fortunately we got the boy out of the +room before you got that far. + +ALMADY. And may I be permitted to inquire _why_ my kiss should be +described as revolting? + +TURAI. The line occurs in the second part of the play, where I was +relying on my native inspiration. + +ALMADY. You call my kiss revolting? I wish to know why. + +TURAI. That is how I _see_ it. I am the author of this play, and that +is my opinion of your kiss. + + [ALMADY _goes up stage in a huff_.] + +ILONA. I do think you might have made some noise to warn us. Why +couldn’t you have coughed or something? + +TURAI. Suppose I had, what should I have been able to do _now_? You +overlook the fact that your very first words, my dear Ilona, left no +room for misunderstanding. If I had stopped you then nothing could have +averted the tragedy. + +ALMADY. [_Coming down mollified._] What a brain! + +TURAI. You flatter me! + +ILONA. No, he doesn’t. He’s right for once. Did this idea come to you +the moment you heard us? + +TURAI. No, I got it from you. + +ILONA. From us? + +TURAI. Yes, stupid of me, I admit. You see, I always assume the best of +my fellowmen. And just for a minute I did think that you really were +acting. Later on, I realized my mistake. + +ILONA. You thought we were acting. Why? + +TURAI. Because it all sounded so artificial. No ring of conviction. I +refer particularly to the more erotic passages. + +ILONA. I don’t wonder. Considering I don’t care one little bit for the +man.... + +ALMADY. What’s that? + +ILONA. You heard. + +ALMADY. You don’t love me? + +ILONA. No. + +ALMADY. [_Furious._] So you were lying. + +ILONA. Yes. + +ALMADY. Just to get rid of me? + +ILONA. [_With loathing, vehemently._] Yes. I hate the sight of you! + +ALMADY. [_Bitterly._] Serpent! + +ILONA. I’d like to murder you! + +ALMADY. [_Bursts into ludicrous sobs._] + +ILONA. My God!--this is the limit! + +TURAI. If you want to cry all over anyone, cry all over me. I like it. +It’s like a tonic to me. + +ALMADY. What made you realize that we were not acting? + +TURAI. The disgusting, sloppy way you began carrying on. No author +living would dare put slush like that in the mouth of an actor who was +supposed to be making love. + +ALMADY. Sloppy? + +TURAI. Beyond words. + +ALMADY. [_With indignation._] Allow me to inform you-- + +TURAI. Shut up! + +ALMADY. [_His dignity collapsing._] Oh, very well. + +TURAI. My friends may be here any minute now. Please go and study +your parts. [_To_ ILONA, _who has been turning over the leaves of the +script_.] That’s a bit you’ll have to learn particularly well. + +ILONA. Which? + +TURAI. [_Pointing to manuscript._] These lines here. This loathsome +series of speeches--the ones we overheard last night. [_Points._] From +there to there. + + [ALMADY _looks at script_.] + +ILONA. [_Reads._] Odd--I hardly remember-- + +TURAI. I do. Nor is your fiancé likely to have forgotten. + +ILONA. [_Reading._] “I worship you. I adore you. I love you as the +church steeple loves the cloud that settles on its summit.” [ALMADY +_turns away, embarrassed_.] Just words! + +ALMADY. [_Takes script._] “You have used me up and squeezed me like a +lemon.” + +ILONA. [_Takes script._] Yes, now I remember-- + +ALMADY. It’s all down, word for word. + + [TURAI _takes script_.] + +TURAI. Yes, the passage is underlined in red ink. Three +pages--here--from page sixteen. It goes on “Come here and let me +kiss that beautiful classic brow”--and then--this is the worst bit, +here--this mad outburst of sensuality--[_Reads rapidly._] “When I look +at _that_--at the perfect shape. The rose flush of that skin--Just to +stroke it!...” + +ILONA. Yes, but I.... + +TURAI. I know, I know. [_Reads._] “Hands off!” you said. But he +couldn’t have obeyed you for he goes on “My God! How round it is! How +smooth! How velvety!” And then I’m afraid he must have got very close +indeed for he adds, “And how fragrant.” That’s right, isn’t it? + +ALMADY. Quite right. It _was_ fragrant. + +ILONA. But I.... + +TURAI. No, my dear, you did _not_. There was a complete silence until +you exclaimed, “You mustn’t bite....” [_Both turn away._] Yes, I +should think you _would_ be ashamed of yourselves. [_He gives_ ILONA +_the script_.] All right, then; copy it out and learn it. If you +ever studied parts in your lives, study these. We’ll have the dress +rehearsal at seven-thirty sharp, here in this room. I’ll give you a run +through. And after dinner, first performance. And now--? + +ILONA. Out we go, eh? + +TURAI. You took the words out of my mouth. And don’t forget, we’ve not +seen each other for three months. + +ILONA. All right--three months. + +ALMADY. [_Going out._] A colossal brain! + + [_They bow._] + +TURAI. I thank you. + + [ALMADY _and_ ILONA _go into her room_. TURAI _sits down and resumes + his interrupted breakfast. Throughout the following scene he goes on + eating quietly, deliberately, and with a good appetite._] + + [MANSKY _enters at right, also in white flannels, but looking more + doleful and dejected than ever_.] + +MANSKY. Have you been up long? + +TURAI. I couldn’t sleep. [_He goes on eating._] How’s our infant? + +MANSKY. Woke up a moment ago. I left him dressing. + +TURAI. You had breakfast yet? + +MANSKY. Not a mouthful. Couldn’t touch it. _You_ seem to have no +difficulty in putting it away. + +TURAI. [_With mock sadness._] One must keep up one’s strength. + +MANSKY. I’m amazed, and, if I may say so, a little shocked. Sitting +there gorging as if nothing had happened. Can’t you realize we’re +absolutely ruined? I’m positively ill thinking about it. + +TURAI. [_Mysteriously._] Shall I let you into a secret, Mansky? + +MANSKY. [_With excited anticipation._] Yes. Tell me. + +TURAI. [_With great deliberation._] I am a man who weighs his words. I +do not speak lightly. And I say to you solemnly, my friend, [_dramatic +pause._] that this is the best bit of ham I’ve ever tasted. + +MANSKY. [_Furious._] Bah! + + [_Crosses left to a mirror._] + +TURAI. [_Continuing as before._] Juicy--nutty--positively good. +[_Solicitously._] Did the boy sleep at all? + +MANSKY. He dropped off about daylight out of sheer exhaustion. [_Looks +in the glass._] I’m pale. + +TURAI. Say anything? + +MANSKY. Not a word. Just stared at the ceiling. You know, that’s bad. + +TURAI. Ceilings aren’t so bad. Walls are much worse. + +MANSKY. What I can’t understand is why a magnificent place like this +should have walls like tissue-paper. + +TURAI. Ah! These are deep waters. + +MANSKY. [_Irritated._] Do stop eating! + +TURAI. But I haven’t finished. + +MANSKY. Gobble--gobble--gobble! [_Looks in the glass._] My God! I am +pale! + +TURAI. Suits you. Intellectual pallor. + +MANSKY. [_Crosses to_ TURAI.] What about that solution you were hinting +at last night? + +TURAI. There were several possibilities. I considered them all +thoroughly in the night watches--while you lay snoring in your bed. +Oh yes, I heard you while I was changing my clothes. [_Points to the +table._] Telegrams, letters, all ready. Finally I hit on the best and +simplest plan. + +MANSKY. Which is? + +TURAI. I’m going to do everything possible to make him break with her. + +MANSKY. What for? + +TURAI. Because that’s the surest way of bringing them together. If he +casts her off forever--in two weeks he’ll be rushing after her and +falling at her feet. The lady--after a little coaxing--will allow +herself to melt. He will coax a little more. She will melt a little +more. Finally she will melt altogether--and the curtain will fall on +the lovers’ slow embrace. + +MANSKY. [_With cumulative contempt._] You thought of that in the night, +did you? + +TURAI. I did. + +MANSKY. All by yourself? + +TURAI. All by myself. + +MANSKY. Well!!! I’ve noticed all this past year that you’ve been +slipping. I realise now, that you’ve completely lost your grip. Our +last show died the death simply because you would write psychology +into it. And now you’ve become simply drivelling. It’s a great shock +to me. Do you know what’s happening? Little by little you’re beginning +to think--and that spells ruin for both of us. Haven’t you grasped yet +what a frightful knock-down blow last night’s affair was to that boy? + +TURAI. Sh! Sh! [_Listens, pointing to door right._] Here he is! +[_Enter_ ADAM. _He is also in white flannels. Very solemn and +miserable. Pause. He passes them without a word and goes to balcony._] +Hullo! Not even a good morning? + +ADAM. Oh, good morning. + + [TURAI _rises_; MANSKY _looks longingly at breakfast things_.] + +MANSKY. [_To_ ADAM _with his best bed-side manner_.] Had breakfast? + +ADAM. No. + + [MANSKY _goes above table and sits down; starts to eat_.] + +TURAI. [_To_ ADAM.] Sleep? + +ADAM. No. + +TURAI. Nor did I. [ADAM _looks at left wall_.] No. Nothing from there. +Not another sound. He left and she went to sleep. _I_ didn’t on your +account. [_To_ MANSKY.] Hullo! Appetite picking up? Appetite picking up? + +MANSKY. [_Starting guiltily and pushing his plate away._] No. I can’t +swallow. Too nervous. I’m a wreck. + +TURAI. Try the ham. + +ADAM. [_Goes to_ TURAI.] I--my dear Uncle Sandor--I don’t want to be a +burden to you two any longer--now that my life has been blown to bits. + +TURAI. Come, come, come! + +ADAM. I mean it. I know what I’m talking about. There’s a great crack +in my heart, and-- + +TURAI. Come now,--be a man. We had enough of that sort of talk last +night. Tell me just what is it you want to do? + +ADAM. Before anything else, I want to get away from this place. + +TURAI. Quite reasonable. And then? + +ADAM. Then I’ll tear up the music I wrote for her--tear it into little +bits and burn it. + +TURAI. Right. And after that? + +ADAM. Don’t be so casual. You know I have nobody in the world but +you--you two. If you hadn’t been here, I’d have ended things long ago. + +TURAI. [_To_ MANSKY, _who has once more started on the breakfast_.] +That’s right. Peck a bit. + +MANSKY. [_Jumping up._] No. It’s no good. Absolutely can’t swallow. I’m +a very sick man. + +ADAM. You see? I’m to blame for that. + +TURAI. Now listen to me, my boy. Sit down. [ADAM _sits_.] What has +happened, has happened. It’s over, done with, a thing of the past. And +I’m going to say something to you now which no young person will ever +believe. You’re twenty-five and you’re gifted. The world’s at your +feet. And that world, let me remind you, contains a great many million +women. + +ADAM. What good are they to me? I only wanted this one. [_Rises._] +Can’t we get away now--at once. I won’t see her! + +TURAI. Oh yes, you will. No scandals, if you please. You arrived here +late at night; everybody knows she is your fiancée, you can’t run away +this morning. Now, I’m not going to urge--in fact, I--er--positively +forbid you to become reconciled to her,--but you must do the sensible +thing. In the course of the morning we will go to her and pay our +respects, and stay on here another day or two, and we will not breathe +a word of what happened last night. You will behave towards her quite +nicely and naturally. I know it will hurt. It’s a bitter pill to +swallow. But to-day you are a man. + +ADAM. Yes. You’re right. + +TURAI. Up with the head and out with the chin and damn everybody! +That’s the stuff. The day after to-morrow, when we leave, you shall +write her a letter, and let yourself go as much as you like. And, no +matter how it may hurt, you have finished with that woman forever. + +ADAM. [_With an effort._] Very well. And if--it should hurt _too_ much, +don’t be afraid that I’ll go back to her. I’ll always have pluck enough +to put a bullet through my head. + +MANSKY. There! See where you have got us to with your psychology. + +TURAI. [_To_ ADAM.] You ought to be ashamed of yourself. + +ADAM. [_Smilingly._] It’s all right. It was silly of me to talk +nonsense like that. I won’t let you down. You shall be satisfied with +me. + +MANSKY. [_To_ ADAM.] Good. Then you won’t--er--tear anything up? + +ADAM. No. + +TURAI. You’ll behave towards Ilona as if nothing had happened? + +ADAM. Yes. Honour bright. + + [_He holds out his hand._] + +TURAI. [_Rises._] I am satisfied. + +MANSKY. [_Sitting down to breakfast, a completely changed man._] It’s +an enormous relief to me to see you getting hold of yourself again so +capitally. [_Eats rapidly._] Bless my soul, yes, an enormous relief. I +really feel a little better. + +TURAI. I’m proud of you. [_To_ MANSKY.] Haven’t you finished breakfast +_yet_? + +MANSKY. [_Delighted._] I can swallow. + +TURAI. So I notice. + +MANSKY. [_To_ ADAM.] Come and join me, my boy. You’ll find your +appetite steals back, little by little. [_To_ TURAI, _who is standing +beside him_.] He’s suffering. He can’t get over it. + +TURAI. We must try to make him. + +MANSKY. Come on, my boy--just a mouthful. Try a little of this +excellent ham. + +ADAM. I don’t want any ham. + +MANSKY. Well, a slice of chicken, then--and some nice hot tea with a +drop of brandy. + +ADAM. Oh, all right. [_Sits down._] + +MANSKY. [_To_ TURAI, _who is sitting deep in thought_.] Well, what’s on +_your_ mind? + +ADAM. After trying to cheer _me_ up, are you going to be depressed +yourself? + +MANSKY. Do you know what I think’s the matter with him? He’s got +another-- + +TURAI. You win. Another problem. + +MANSKY. Theatre? + +TURAI. As always. + +MANSKY. Oh, my God! + +TURAI. Last night, when we came into this room, I was saying how hard +it was to begin a play. I’m now thinking how hard it is to end a second +act. + +MANSKY. Oh, come and end your breakfast. + +TURAI. No, I mean it. It’s worrying me. Take this situation of +ours, for instance--just as we did yesterday--We have had a curious +experience. We arrived perfectly happy and immediately got a terrible +shock--a ghastly disillusionment. We’ve managed to survive it, and +we’ve got ourselves in hand again. But, suppose these things had +happened not in real life but on the stage--suppose this were not a +real room but a painted set--suppose we three were characters in +a play who had just passed through the experiences we have passed +through-- + +MANSKY. Well? + +TURAI. Well, how would you end the act? + +MANSKY. [_Impatiently._] My dear fellow! It’s ended already. + +TURAI. In a way, yes. But don’t forget that, at the last moment, before +the curtain actually falls, you need something more--a new note of +suspense--a punch--both, if you can manage it. In fact, just what is +implied in that word “Curtain.” Curtain--Curtain. The act must end and +yet it must not quite end. The audience’s interest must be snapped +up--given a jolt. So, my distinguished collaborator, how about it? +You’ve often told me how good you are--try your hand at ending the +second act of this dismal adventure of ours. + +MANSKY. My dear chap, simplicity itself. Come here. Sit down. +[TURAI _sits at table_.] Now then. I’m all for the quiet curtain. +One of those charming delicate things the French do so well. _You_ +know--sophisticated--lightly sentimental--the smile behind the tear. +The three friends sit down to breakfast. Audiences always like to see +actors eating. The storm has passed. The skies are still a little +dark, but there is sunshine in the heart and all that sort of thing. +Let this sink in for a bit--everything very cozy and pleasant. Business +of eating--we each have a glass of wine. [_They all take up their +glasses._] For a moment--silence--their thoughts are busy with what has +passed. [_Pause._] Capital. And then--[_He raises his glass._]--you +want a couple of smart lines, spoken with something of a flourish. +[_Thinks._] Oh, well--[_Then as if he had thought of what he wanted to +say--to_ ADAM.] My young friend, to-day you have become a man-- + +TURAI. [_Pointing to where he was sitting at the time._] _I_ said that. + +MANSKY. For--always remember-- + +TURAI. Yes, that shows ’em it’s coming. + +MANSKY. [_Not heeding him._] Always remember that in affairs of the +heart it is not the first victory that makes us men, but the first +defeat. [_Lifts his glass._] To Woman’s Treachery, which has made our +child a man! [_Raises his hand toward the curtain._] Curtain. [_Curtain +starts to come down. They put their glasses down on the table, +simultaneously, untasted._ MANSKY _smiles complacently_.] How’s that? + +TURAI. Rotten! [_Curtain slowly goes up again._] [_Gets up._] Tame. +Feeble. Nothing in the nature of a high spot. I’m not saying it isn’t +pretty and graceful. Charming even--but it lacks suspense. [_Pause._] +[_To_ ADAM.] How would _you_ do it? + +ADAM. I? Feeling as I do now? + +TURAI. Give us your idea. + +ADAM. [_With tremendous intensity._] Very well, I’ll give you my idea. +We start from where Mansky gave that toast. + +MANSKY. To Woman’s--? + +ADAM. [_Rises._] Treachery. That’s it. I’d say--“No. I won’t drink any +toast.” [_Throws glass against the wall smashing it to bits._] + +MANSKY. [_Approvingly._] Effective. + +ADAM. [_Rapidly losing control of himself and becoming hysterical._] +That woman was not just an incident in my life. She was my first great +passion. I promised to act as if nothing had happened. I meant to keep +that promise. But when I remember that I gave her my life and that she +whispers words of love to another man--and--and kisses another man, +that’s such unbearable, burning torture, that the only right solution-- +[_Grabs small game carving knife from table._] + +TURAI. [_Leaping forward._] Hey! Stop that! + +ADAM. [_Struggling with him._] No! No! + +MANSKY. [_Rushing forward._] My God! You weren’t really-- + +ADAM. [_Struggling._] Let me go. I want to die. + + [TURAI _has got knife away from him. He looks at it intently._ ADAM + _stands, pale and defiant_.] + +TURAI. What the devil do you think you’re doing? + +ADAM. [_Bitterly._] Just--finishing the act. [_He sits down._ MANSKY +_follows him and sits down, too. Smiles wanly._] Curtain! + + [_Curtain starts to come down._] + +TURAI. [_Putting the knife away._] Very bad. [_Curtain goes up slowly +again._] Quite impossible. Death’s all right for the end of a play, but +absolutely no good for a second act. Besides, the scene was too crude. +I don’t say the gallery might not like it, but think what the critics +would say. They despise melodrama. Suspense is what you want--suspense +and then a quick curtain. + +MANSKY. And now, I suppose, you could show us how it really ought to be +done? + +TURAI. [_Goes to telephone._] Hello. Will you give me Miss Ilona +Szabo’s room, please. + + [_Bell sounds in_ ILONA’S _room_.] + +MANSKY. [_Starting._] What on earth--? + +ILONA’S VOICE. Hello. + +TURAI. Hello. Ilona? + +ILONA’S VOICE. Yes. Who is that speaking? + +TURAI. Don’t you recognize my voice? This is Sandor Turai. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Oh, how wonderful! Are you here, then? Where are you +speaking from? + +TURAI. Yes, I’m right here in the castle. Next door to you. Number four. + +ILONA’S VOICE. What a perfectly delightful surprise. + +TURAI. We came by car last night. All three of us. + +ILONA’S VOICE. You don’t mean Albert, too? + +TURAI. Yes--and Mansky, if you think that worth mentioning. We’re all +three here in this room, and we’ve brought you the finished script of +the operetta. + +ILONA’S VOICE. Marvellous! That’s something like a surprise. + +TURAI. We were hesitating about waking you so early, but I particularly +wanted to see you about something. Can you come in here for a minute? + + [_Replaces receiver and goes to door._ ADAM _and_ MANSKY _stand where + they are_.] + + [_Enter_ ILONA _with assumed joy and excitement_.] + +ILONA. Well, this is wonderful of you all. [_She kisses_ TURAI _lightly +and crosses quickly to_ ADAM _who kisses her hands_.] What a surprise. +Albert darling! This _is_ a surprise. [_She hangs onto_ ADAM’S _arm_.] +Sandor! To think that it’s-- + +TURAI. --three whole months-- + +ILONA. --three whole months since I’ve seen you. How brown you’re +looking. And younger than ever. Let me look at you. Wonderful! [_She +crosses to_ MANSKY _and kisses him on each cheek_.] And Mansky--how are +_you_, Mansky dear? I think this is too sweet of you all. You don’t +know how I’ve been longing to see you. When did you get here? [_She +returns to_ ADAM.] + +TURAI. [_Very gravely._] Just a minute, Ilona. [_He looks through door +into her room._] Why, Mr. Almady! Of all people! Won’t you come in? + + [_Enter_ ALMADY.] + +ALMADY. [_Nervously._] Good morning. + +TURAI. Fancy finding _you_ here after all these years. + +ALMADY. [_Pompously._] Passing through. Just passing through. I only +wanted to say how-d’you-do to the Count, but they wouldn’t let me go. +The--er--the shooting-party you know, and the concert. They insisted on +my staying. + +ILONA. I was _so_ surprised to see him. + +TURAI. Pardon me for disturbing you and possibly casting a slight gloom +on what must have been a joyful reunion, but I have something rather +important to say. + + [ILONA _drops_ ADAM’S _arm_.] + +ILONA. [_Crosses to_ TURAI.] What do you mean? Nothing--nothing +unpleasant, I hope? + +TURAI. Yes--extremely unpleasant. [ILONA _sits down, terrified. To_ +ALMADY.] Please. [_He motions them to sit down._] Well, then. We +arrived here last night-- [_Long pause._] And just now we were sitting +having breakfast--we three-- [_To_ MANSKY.] Weren’t we? + +ADAM. [_Puzzled._] Yes. + +MANSKY. Well? + +TURAI. Keep quite calm, please. We were sitting here, having +breakfast--all three of us. [_He lowers his voice and speaks very +earnestly._] I must entreat you all to hear what I am about to say +quite calmly-- Don’t lose your heads-- + +ILONA. For God’s sake-- + +ALMADY. [_Uneasily._] Well? What is it? + +TURAI. [_Holds up his hand._] Please! [_Dead silence._] What I am about +to say--and I shall not detain you long now--must almost inevitably +have a shattering effect on the lives--both the private and the +professional lives--of all us five people. I have asked myself--is +it wise to speak? And I have answered myself--wise or not, it is +unavoidable. Ilona-- [ILONA _rises, gasping_.] I have a question to ask +you-- [_Breaks off. Dead silence. Then very simply to_ MANSKY.] How’s +that for suspense? + +MANSKY. Yes. Yes. Well? What now? + +TURAI. Nothing. That’s all. [_Smiles._] Curtain! [_Curtain comes down +quickly and rises immediately. He offers_ ILONA _his arm, as the rest +of the group breathe again and relax their tension_.] We’ve just been +having an argument about the proper way to end a second act. [_Leads_ +ILONA _slowly to door, left to hall, the others following_.] I couldn’t +resist the temptation to show these colleagues of mine how, by the most +simple methods, you can make an act end on a note of suspense. You +see-- + + [_He goes out, talking, followed first by_ ALMADY, _then by_ ADAM + _and_ MANSKY.] + +MANSKY. [_Going out; to_ ADAM.] Crazy. Absolutely crazy. Thinks of +nothing in the world but the theatre-- [_The curtain falls again._] + + + + +ACT THREE + + + _As the curtain rises it reveals the room lighted up by the electric + sconces and candelabra. A large and elaborately painted screen + in silver and green has been placed in front of the window. It + is painted to suggest an orchard. The screen shuts out the view + of the Mediterranean, but to the left and right of it we glimpse + the lighted esplanade, and many more twinkling lights than in the + first act, for it is early evening. There are two garden chairs in + front of the screen in the raised portion of the room; otherwise + the scene is unchanged._ MR. MELL, _the count’s secretary, and the + master of ceremonies, enters at left from the hall. He is a fussy, + pale young man with high pitched voice. He wears glasses and is in + evening clothes. He is carrying a wicker table, and carrying it with + difficulty and discomfort. He places it between the two wicker chairs + in front of the screen and stands caressing his hands where the table + has cut into them._ + +MELL. [_Calls._] Dwornitschek. [_To himself._] Where is that man? +[_Calls._] Dwornitschek. + +DWORNITSCHEK’S VOICE. Coming, sir, coming. + + [DWORNITSCHEK _enters from the hall, followed by a lackey. They are + both in formal, full dress livery of white with knee breeches, and + powdered wigs._ DWORNITSCHEK _carries a book, two letters, a scarf + and a woman’s hat. The lackey carries a tall brown hunting hat, whip, + gauntlets and a large, luscious peach._] + +MELL. Oh, there you are at last. Why are you so late? + +DWORNITSCHEK. I fell downstairs, sir. + +MELL. Well, that oughtn’t to have taken you long. [_He fiddles with the +screen._] + +DWORNITSCHEK. You should have let _me_ carry those things, Mr. Mell. + +MELL. I couldn’t wait. You are so slow. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Slow but sure, sir. [_He puts things on table._] When I +was a lad, my mother used to say.... + +MELL. I don’t want to hear about your mother. + +DWORNITSCHEK. No, sir. Very few people do. + +MELL. Have you got all the properties? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Props, sir, is the more professional expression. + +MELL. I was using the more technical term.... Well, properties or +props, have you got them? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. Book.... + +MELL. ... Peach.... + +DWORNITSCHEK. ... Scarf.... + +MELL. ... Whip.... + +DWORNITSCHEK. ... Two letters and a pair of gloves. + +MELL. Good. [_Mops his forehead._] Oh dear, what a headache I’m getting. + +DWORNITSCHEK. What you want is an aspirin. + +MELL. Have you an aspirin? + +DWORNITSCHEK. No, sir. + +MELL. You’re a great help. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank you, sir. If I might be allowed to say so, you let +yourself get too nervous on these festive nights, sir. You _worry_. + +MELL. How can I help worrying, with all the responsibility there is on +my shoulders? + +DWORNITSCHEK. What I always say is-- Never worry too much to-day. +Things may be worse to-morrow, and then you can worry twice as hard. + +MELL. It does make me so nervous when people want to alter the +programme at the last moment. First Miss Szabo says she’s going to +sing, then she says she’s going to act.... [_He breaks off as_ ALMADY +_enters, goes to_ ALMADY.] Good evening, sir, good evening. You are +first in the field. + +ALMADY. [_Grouchily._] Good evening. The others will be here directly. +They’re dressing. + +MELL. A wonderful shooting party to-day, sir. Capital sport, capital. +There is nothing like a good brisk day out in the open with the guns. +What a colour it has given you. + +ALMADY. I wasn’t there. + +MELL. Eh? Oh! Not there? + +ALMADY. No. I’ve been in my room all day, writing. + +MELL. Pardon my curiosity, but may one ask what you were writing? + +ALMADY. No, one may not. + +DWORNITSCHEK. [_Explaining._] I think the gentleman does not wish to +say what he was writing, sir. + +MELL. Oh, are you still there? + +DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. Still here. + +MELL. Then go away. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Very good, sir. Really I shouldn’t worry, Mr. Mell. Look +on the bright side, sir. + +MELL. All very well for you. You have no responsibilities, and the +guests give you big tips. + +DWORNITSCHEK. That _is_ the bright side, sir. [_He goes out at left to +hall followed by the lackey._] + +MELL. A secretary’s life is a dog’s life, Mr. Almady. Work, work, work +from morning till night, and never a word of thanks. [ALMADY _takes no +notice_.] You are very silent, Mr. Almady. + +ALMADY. I sometimes find it soothing to be silent. Try it yourself one +of these days ... I take it the concert begins directly after dinner? + +MELL. Immediately following the serving of coffee. + +ALMADY. And when does this--this play of ours come on? + +MELL. It is the last item on the programme. The place of honour. + +ALMADY. Bah! [_Walks away upstage._] + +MELL. Sir? [_Follows him._] + +ALMADY. [_Absorbed in his part which he is studying._] Nothing. + +MELL. Miss Szabo tells me that no scenery is required but two elegant +chairs and one elegant table. + +ALMADY. Is that an elegant table? + +MELL. Well, really--no. But what can one expect in a garden? Oh--if +only the scene had been an interior--there’s some perfectly lovely +furniture in the Count’s room--genuine Louis the Fifteenth. A very +elegant period, Louis the Fifteenth. + +ALMADY. I don’t care a damn. They’re all the same to me. Louis the +Fifteenth or Louis the Fourteenth or Louis the Seventeenth. + +MELL. But there isn’t a Louis the _Seventeenth_, and I’ve often +wondered why. Why, I’ve wondered, should there be a Louis the +_Sixteenth_ and a Louis the _Eighteenth_, but not a Louis the +_Seventeenth_? + +ALMADY. [_Exasperated._] Oh, God. Ask a furniture dealer. + +MELL. I did. I’m _always_ asking furniture dealers. But they only +know as far as Louis the _Sixteenth_. That’s where the Louis stop for +furniture dealers. Whenever I say Louis the _Seventeenth_ they say you +mean the _Sixteenth_, and I say no, I don’t mean Louis the _Sixteenth_, +I mean Louis the _Seventeenth_ and.... [_Breaks off and mops his +brow._] I’m afraid I’m talking a great deal, sir. + +ALMADY. Oh, you’ve noticed that? + +MELL. The fact is, Mr. Almady, I’m all of a twitter. + +ALMADY. What have _you_ got to be nervous about? + +MELL. I’m always like this on these big nights. You see I’m responsible +for everything and its terribly wearing on the nerves. [_During this +long speech of_ MELL’S, ALMADY _becomes bored and walks away_, MELL +_suddenly aware that he is talking to the air, follows him_.] I’m +stage manager, property man and prompter. I turn the music, show the +ladies to their seats, hand bouquets onto the stage--and I’m expected +always to applaud at the right moment. I assure you I have often gone +to bed after one of these entertainments with my hands so tender I +could scarcely hold my toothbrush. [ALMADY _does not answer_.] You will +pardon me for mentioning it, sir, but you don’t seem quite your merry +old self to-night. + +ALMADY. I’m as cheerful as any man would be whose brain had been addled +from studying an infernal part all day. + +MELL. But I thought you said you had spent the day writing? + +ALMADY. Yes, I--I always memorize a part by writing it out. + +MELL. What energy! What enthusiasm! Have you a nice part? + +ALMADY. No. Rotten. + +MELL. Dear, dear, dear! You’ll feel better when you hear the applause. +We’re great applauders here. We don’t care _how_ bad an actor is-- + +ALMADY. [_Offended; moves away._] Thank you. + +MELL. [_Follows._] I beg your pardon. I--I don’t mean it like that. +[_Goes to door of_ ILONA’S _room and knocks_.] Miss Szabo, please. Miss +Szabo, please. Beginners, please. + + [_Enter_ ILONA _in evening dress_.] + + [_Enter_ ADAM _right, in dress clothes_.] + +ILONA. Well, we seem to be all here. [ALMADY _bows_.] + +MELL. Good evening, Miss Szabo, good evening, good evening. + +ILONA. Well, we may as well begin. + +ALMADY. Wouldn’t it be as well to wait for Mr. Turai? [_Bitterly._] +Seeing that he is being so kind as to give us his invaluable assistance. + +ILONA. He’ll be here directly. Where is the prompter? + +MELL. Present. Present. + +ILONA. Here’s the script. [_Hands it to him._] + +MELL. [_Goes to stage._] I hope this extemporé set meets with your +approval? [_Pointing to screen._] A little idea quite of my own. + +ILONA. Charming. [_To_ ADAM _sincerely, deeply concerned_.] Albert--you +seem--you seem--very quiet--this evening. + + [MELL _sits_.] + +ADAM. Oh, no, not a bit. A little tired, that’s all. We had rather a +long motor drive and I didn’t get much sleep last night-- Please don’t +think-- [_Breaks off as_ MELL _shows signs of impatience_.] I’m afraid +our friend the secretary is getting restive. + +ILONA. What on earth is the matter? + +MELL. I’m all of a twitter. + +ILONA. Well, do simmer down. [_To_ ADAM, _who has sat down_.] Surely +you’re not going to stay for this rehearsal? + +ADAM. If you don’t mind. + +ILONA. Oh, I don’t mind. But you’ll be thoroughly bored. A silly little +French piece. You’ll be seeing it after dinner. I should have thought +once would have been enough. + +ADAM. Well, as a matter of fact, Mr. Turai asked me to stay and help +out till he came. And I promised him I would. + +ILONA. Just as you please. [_Very nervous._] Can’t we begin? Are the +props here? + +MELL. Nothing is ever missing when I am the property man. There they +all are--on the table. [_Points to table._ MELL _picks up scarf and hat +and helps_ ILONA.] + +ILONA. [_Takes book and letter._] Those are yours. [ALMADY _pockets +the peach and the remaining letter_.] Now then--let’s start. The +Countess--that’s me--discovered alone. Seated in chair, reading book. +[_Sits down._] [_To_ ALMADY.] You’re not on yet. [ALMADY _stalks off to +the left_.] + +MELL. Do we go on now? + +ILONA. Don’t ask so many questions. Yes, go on. [_She reads book._] + +MELL. [_Reading from the script._] Curtain rises on a glorious garden. +Period Louis the Fifteenth. + +ILONA. You don’t have to read _that_. + +MELL. [_Doubtfully._] I always _have_. + +ILONA. You only have to give the actors the spoken lines. + +MELL. Now, I never knew _that_ before-- Now, that’s very interesting. +[_He looks stupidly at script._] + +ALMADY. [_Coming down._] What on earth’s the matter now? + +ILONA. I’m afraid Mr. Mell is not much of a prompter. + +ADAM. [_Taking script from_ MELL.] It’s all right--let _me_ hold the +book. + +ILONA. No. + +ALMADY. [_Simultaneously._] No, no. + +ILONA. You mustn’t. + +ADAM. What do you mean? + +ILONA. I won’t have it-- + +ADAM. Why not? + +MELL. [_To_ ADAM, _offended, sarcastically_.] No doubt Miss Szabo means +that it is beneath the dignity of such an important person. Please give +_me_ the book. + +ADAM. Do stop fussing. Can’t you see you make them nervous. + +MELL. Make _them_ nervous? What about _my_ nervousness? + +ADAM. I tell you _I’ll_ hold the book. And you can do it for the +performance. Does _that_ satisfy you? + +MELL. [_Deeply offended._] Oh, quite. Oh, perfectly-- + +ILONA. [_To_ ADAM.] Now you’ve hurt the poor man’s feelings. You’ve +insulted him-- + +MELL. Madam, I’m a secretary. I spend all my time receiving insults. + +ILONA. Oh?-- Well, let’s begin. [_To_ ALMADY.] You’re off. [_Again_ +ALMADY _stalks to left_.] Countess discovered seated in armchair, +reading book. [_Takes up book._ ALMADY _is wearing the brown hat, +gauntlets and carrying the riding whip_.] + +ADAM. [_Prompting._] What a silly-- + +ILONA. [_Speaking her lines._] What a silly story. [_Closes book._] +Just like all novels. + +ADAM. What _can_ I do-- + +ILONA. [_Yawning._] What _can_ I do to kill the time? The Count is +always out riding. Paris seems very far away amidst these sleepy fields +of Normandy. + +ADAM. Hoof-beats heard off-- [MELL _imitates hoof-beats, by beating his +thighs with his hands_.] + +ILONA. Hark! I hear him coming-- Can this be my husband? Surely he went +off on his horse to visit our old tenant, honest Jacques Benoit. + + [MELL _makes the hoof-beats louder and louder_. ALMADY _comes into + the scene dramatically, ominously, but his entrance is completely + ruined by_ MELL _continuing the hoof-beats_. ALMADY _stamps his feet + impatiently and at last_ MELL _stops_.] + +ALMADY. So, madame! + +ILONA. Why, what is the matter? Why do you frown, my dear Count? + +ALMADY. Why do I frown? That, madame, you will learn--and speedily, as +sure as my name is Count--Count-- [_He can’t remember his name._] + +ADAM. [_Prompting._] Maurice du Veyrier-- + +ALMADY. As sure as my name is Count Maurice du Veyrier de la Grande +Contumace Saint Emilion. + +ILONA. You frighten me, Maurice. + +ALMADY. It is your guilty conscience that frightens you, madame. + +ADAM. Traitress. + + [ILONA _starts and looks at him nervously_.] + + [ADAM _rises_.] + +Traitress! No doubt you supposed me a credulous imbecile whom it was +simple to hoodwink-- + + [_Enter_ TURAI _and_ MANSKY, _both in evening dress from the right_. + ILONA _and_ ALMADY _confused by their guilt, for the moment believe + that_ ADAM _is accusing them_.] + +ALMADY. [_Very embarrassed._] No doubt--you--I-- + +ADAM. [_Still prompting._] You thought that any story would do for me? +You imagined that I was fool enough to swallow anything---- + +TURAI. [_Coming down, horrified, thinking that_ ADAM _is making a +scene_.] What!!!!! + +ADAM. Shhhh!-- [_Goes on prompting._] No doubt you supposed me a +credulous fool-- + +TURAI. [_Relieved; he grasps the situation._] O-oh! [_Takes the script +from him._] Let _me_ have that script. + +ADAM. Why? [_To_ ILONA.] Aren’t I prompting well? + +ILONA. No. + +ALMADY. [_Simultaneously._] No. + +ADAM. [_Ruffled._] Nothing like being frank. + +MELL. [_Goes to_ ADAM _and pats his shoulder_.] Don’t take it to heart. +Even _I_ wasn’t good enough for them. + +ADAM. Perhaps you’ll tell me where I went wrong? + +TURAI. Don’t ask so many questions. [_Seats himself in_ MELL’S +_place_.] I’ll take on this job. + +MELL. [_To_ ADAM.] Everybody is so rude. + +TURAI. [_Looking at script._] All right. From where you stopped. + +ALMADY. [_Glibly._] Traitress, you have deceived me. I have long had +my suspicions. I have now in my possession the proofs. No doubt you +supposed me a credulous imbecile whom it was simple to hoodwink. You +thought that any story would do for me? You imagined that I was fool +enough to swallow anything. Let me tell you, madame, that you are +mistaken. For a long time I have suspected that there was something +behind all these rides of yours with our neighbor the Marquis Jean +François Gilette de la Tour d’Argent. Day after day, for hours at a +time, you have made a practice of riding with him on the road from +Duvernois Sur Saône to Saint Sulpice de la Grande Parmentière--and +slowly at that! + +ILONA. It’s a lie. Who told you? + +ALMADY. Silence, woman! The proofs are in my pocket. Mon Dieu, is +there no gratitude in this world? When I married you, who were you? +A nobody. Your father, Brigadier-General Pierre Jean Bourmond de la +Seconde-Chaumière-Rambouillet, fell in battle at Grande-Lagruyère +Sur Marne, and you eked out a scanty living as a seamstress at your +mother’s home in the village of Saint Genevieve, in the Department of +Seine et Oise. So, madame! And then what happened? _I_ came. I gave you +name, rank, and wealth such as you had never dreamed of. You became +Madame La Countess du Veyrier de la Grande Contumace Saint Emilion. +I bestowed upon you not only my estates in Pardubien-Grand-Amanoir, +but also my two castles in Challenges-Debicourt de la Romanée and at +Rivalieux-Quandamouzières Sur Vantera-aux Alpes Maritimes. [_He stops +exhausted._] + +TURAI. Don’t stop. What’s wrong? [ALMADY _takes off his hat and gloves, +puts the whip down on the table, and, stepping out of character comes +down to_ TURAI.] + +ALMADY. It’s these damned _French names_, they’re perfectly frightful. + +TURAI. I don’t see what we can do about it. + +ALMADY. You surely don’t need them all? + +TURAI. They’re in the script. + +ALMADY. But I’ll go mad trying to memorize them. Titles with six +hyphens in them and names of places with a dozen ‘aux’ and ‘de la’s’ +and ‘sur’s.’ And, damn it, they’re all in _my_ part. [_Choking with +fury._] It’s deadly. At least, let’s leave out that second castle. + +TURAI. [_Coldly._] My dear fellow, have you no sense of dramatic +construction? If he had given her only one castle, the audience would +think her perfectly justified in deceiving him. If he had given her +three, they would look on him as a purse-proud fool who didn’t deserve +a faithful wife. No, two is exactly the right number. You can’t beat +Sardou when it comes to technique. Go on please. + + [ALMADY _goes up hopelessly and replaces his hat and gloves and takes + up the whip_.] + +ALMADY. I made you a countess and a wealthy woman. And what return +do I get? You betray me--yes, madame, betray me--with my best friend +and nearest neighbor, the Marquis Jean François Gilette de la Tour +d’Argent, lord of Perigord des Champignons and Saint Sulpice de la +Grand Parmentière. [_He breaks off, and removes hat and gloves as +before._] My God, it’s enough to give a fellow apoplexy. + +TURAI. [_Surprised._] I beg your pardon? That doesn’t seem to be in the +script. + +ALMADY. [_Down to_ TURAI _as before_.] I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s +these names. + +TURAI. Well, I’m always open to suggestions. What would _you_ like to +call the gentleman? + +ALMADY. Foche or Briand--or something short like that. + +TURAI. [_Sarcastically._] Perhaps--Vichy! Get on, please. [ALMADY _goes +upstage more hopeless than before_.] + +ILONA. [_Nervously._] Oh, do let’s get on. Count, you have said enough. + +TURAI. So _he_ seems to think. + +ILONA. I will not endure these shameful accusations. You are insulting +the woman who bears your name. + +ALMADY. [_Again taking off hat and gloves and puts down the whip._] +It’s a damned shame. + +TURAI. What is? + +ALMADY. I always have to say the whole infernal thing from beginning to +end, and she just says “your name.” + +TURAI. [_Coldly._] We’re wasting time. + +ALMADY. Another word, madame, and I produce the proof. + +ILONA. [_Laughing._] The proof? One is amused. One smiles. + +ALMADY. [_Takes stage and turns._] A smile which I will make to die +upon your lips. Behold! The proof! [_He fuddles in his coat-tail pocket +from which he belatedly takes the peach with a sinister flourish._] + +ILONA. [_With insincere terror._] Ah, gracious heaven! The peach! +[_Sits._] + +ALMADY. [_Lays peach on table._] Yes, madame, the peach. The first +peach that ripened on the lovingly cherished, early-blooming, richly +bearing, East Indian dwarf peach trees in my orchard at Simarineux de +la Pomme d’Api, making a triumphant entry into the world days ahead of +any other peach in the whole of France. [_He turns and glares at_ TURAI +_resentfully_, TURAI _pays no attention_, _so he resumes his part_.] +You know what a passionate fruit-grower I am. You know that I have +tended this peach from its first budding--cared for it--watched over +it--wrapped it about with my love--kept a diary about it--and awaited +its ripening like the coming of a Messiah. And what happens? This +afternoon I go out riding. I am proceeding at a gentle jog-trot-- + + [MELL _imitates hoof-beats as before_. ALMADY _is incensed by his + stupidity_. MELL _subsides abashed, and_ ALMADY _resumes_.] + +I am proceeding at a gentle jog-trot from Duvernois Sur Saône to Saint +Sulpice de la Grand Parmentière-- [_He breaks off with an anguished +look at_ TURAI.] + +TURAI. [_Coldly._] Along the high road-- + +ALMADY. Along the high road. And whom should I see there, tripping +along, but Juliette--your maid. I speak to her. She betrays +embarrassment at seeing me. She stammers and ties her apron-strings in +a knot. I ask her where she is going. Terrified, she bursts into tears +and whispers, ‘My lady sent me to the Marquis Jean François Gilette de +la Tour d’Argent’--curse him! + +TURAI. Right. This time that _was_ in the script. + +ALMADY. Why, I ask the girl, did your mistress send you to the Marquis? +And then suddenly, happening to look closer, I see that she is trying +desperately to hide a little parcel from me. I take it from her, I +open it, and what do I see? [_Points to peach._] That peach! The King +of Peaches, the apple of my eye--my pride and joy, my firstborn, the +supreme peach from the orchards of Simarineux de la Pomme d’Api--the +last word in stoneless fruit which I have been guarding since birth +like a baby sister-- And, as if this were not enough, wrapped round +that glorious specimen of its kind, I discover a letter. [_He fuddles +in his inside coat-pocket, draws out a letter, sees it is the wrong +one, replaces it hastily, and draws forth the proper one._] This letter +[_He reads._] “My beloved. This is the first peach that has ripened in +France this year. I send it to _you_. Eat it reverently.” [_He holds +the letter under her nose._] There! + +ILONA. Are you trying to make me smell it? + +ALMADY. I am. For even if you were shameless enough to deny your +writing you cannot deny your perfume. Or are you proposing to deny it? + +ILONA. No. + +ALMADY. Ha! Then you admit it? + +ILONA. Yes. + +ALMADY. _You_ sent him this peach? + +ILONA. Yes! + +ALMADY. [_Again takes off his hat and gloves._ _To_ TURAI.] It’s simply +rank injustice. I’ve got to say yard-long speeches at the top of my +voice, and all her part consists of is little exclamations like ‘oh!’ +‘no!’ and ‘yes!’ + +TURAI. Yes--I noticed that myself. These short crisp speeches are +characteristic of Sardou’s women! It can’t be helped. Go on, please. + +ALMADY. [_Goes back, puts on hat and gloves, more miserable than +ever._] So! You accept from me everything--love, name, rank, riches, +estates--_two_ castles--and then you go about the place sending my most +cherished fruit to your lover! + +ILONA. [_Rises, tragically._] No. + +ALMADY. You have the effrontery to pretend that the Marquis is _not_ +your lover? + +ILONA. Yes. + +ALMADY. You mean he is? + +ILONA. No. + +ALMADY. You mean he is _not_? + +ILONA. [_Triumphantly._] Yes. + +ALMADY. [_With a theatrical laugh._] A likely story. Madame, I am +a fruit-grower, the leading amateur horticulturist in France and +President of the Paris Peach Club. I know--I say, I _know_--that one +does not give fruit like this save where one has first given--the +heart. Madame, I despise you. + +ILONA. You consider conduct like mine despicable? + +ALMADY. I do. + +ILONA. Good! Then I have one little question to ask you. In the early +Spring of this year there ripened in your orchard the first crop of +white-heart cherries. To whom did you send those cherries? + +ALMADY. [_Turns away embarrassed._] To my mother. The Dowager Countess +du Veyrier de la Grande Contumace Saint Emilion. + +ILONA. Indeed? To your mother? Then permit me to show you something. +You are not the only one who has discovered an interesting letter. +[_Takes letter from table._] Smell that! Do you recognize the perfume? +[_Holds it under his nose._] + +MELL. [_To_ ADAM.] What a _situation_! Sardou at his best. There’s no +one like him. + +ILONA. The perfume is that of Mademoiselle Emilienne, première danseuse +at the Folies Bergères, whom you honor with your friendship and +protection. + +ALMADY. How--how did you get this? + +ILONA. Never mind. Always remember letters are like sped arrows. You +never can tell where they are going to drop. + +MELL. [_Applauds vigorously, to_ ADAM.] An epigram. + +ILONA. Read it, please. + +ALMADY. [_Reading._] “My dearest. This morning that doddering old idiot +of a count of mine--” + +ILONA. You notice how your divinity writes of you? Go on! + +ALMADY. [_Reading._] --“that doddering old idiot of a count of mine +sent me a basket of cherries. Did I tell you he was a famous fruit +grower? He says these are the first cherries that have ripened in +France this year and he sends them to me as a token of his love. +Drop in this evening, darling, and we’ll eat the old fool’s cherries +together. Your loving Emilienne, P. S. Ring twice as usual!” [_He +sobs._] + +ILONA. You see, what you do to me, I do to you. An eye for an eye, a +_tooth for a tooth_, a peach for a cherry. + +ALMADY. [_Brokenly._] Yes. It’s true. + +ILONA. And now, leave my garden. This very afternoon I pack my boxes +and go back to my mother. And if you will question my maid you will +find that I told her to hang about till you came by--to blush and +stammer--and finally to give you the letter _and_ the peach. [_She +breaks into stage laughter._] Ha, ha, ha! Oh, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! + +ALMADY. Well, I must face it. I’ve lost. + +ILONA. You’ve lost _me_. + +ALMADY. [_Kneeling._] Yvonne! Don’t say that. See! I beg your +forgiveness on my knees ... overlook this one false step. + +ILONA. The idea! A count, and an _elderly_ count--grovelling like that. +[ALMADY _gets up and turns away_.] All the same, you have touched me. +So I will forgive you. But you are not to get off without punishment. +Firstly, I forbid you to eat this peach. + +ALMADY. My God! Not that! + +ILONA. [_Firmly._] Yes. + +ALMADY. So be it. + +ILONA. Secondly, you will permit me to go to Paris alone-- + +ALMADY. [_Despairingly._] Yvonne! + +ILONA. Not a word. Either you trust me or you do not! If you _do_, I +will return. If _not_, _not_. + +ALMADY. Oh, heavens! And how long do you expect to stay in Paris? + +ILONA. A week. [_Short pause._] + +ALMADY. [_Suddenly bursting out._] No! I can’t live without you. I +worship you. I adore you. I love you as the church steeple loves the +cloud that settles on its summit, only to be wafted away by the first +passing breeze. I can’t live without you. Not a week, not a day. Not an +hour. + +ILONA. Just words. [_At the word “church steeple”_ MANSKY _and_ ADAM +_have exchanged a glance of utter astonishment_.] + +MANSKY. [_Rises._] But ... but ... but.... Just one moment.... _What_ +was that you said? + +ILONA. I beg your pardon? + +TURAI. Now, listen, _please_. We can’t have these interruptions. Don’t +pull them up the moment they’ve got nicely into the swing of it. + +MELL. I can’t wait to see how it all ends. [_To_ ADAM.] Will she leave +him? Or will the memory of their past love prove too strong? + +MANSKY. [_Goes to_ ADAM--_Aside to_ ADAM.] This is devilish queer. + +TURAI. Quiet, quiet, please. [_To_ ALMADY.] All right. Go on. Better go +back to “Not a week! Not a day! Not an hour!” + +ALMADY. _Not a week! Not a day! Not an hour!_ + +ILONA. Just words. + +ALMADY. It’s the truth. I’m crazy about you. And you--you have used me +up and squeezed me like a lemon, and now you want to throw me away. +[_At the word “lemon”_ MANSKY _and_ ADAM _again exchange glances_. +MANSKY _gets up, deeply agitated_.] + +MANSKY. Sandor.... + +TURAI. What is it? + +MANSKY. [_To_ ILONA _and_ ALMADY.] You’ll excuse me? I have something +very urgent to say to Mr. Turai. [_He crosses to_ TURAI _and drags him +over to the corner below the fireplace_.] Do you hear what they’re +saying? + +TURAI. [_Feigning non-comprehension._] How do you mean, do I hear what +they’re saying? + +MANSKY. I mean ... didn’t those last lines sound familiar to you? + +TURAI. That’s right. Now you mention it. I did notice something, only I +thought it was my fancy. + +MANSKY. [_To_ ADAM.] Come here. [MELL _tries to become a part of the +whispered conference, but_ ADAM _waves him away, and he withdraws +upstage disconsolate_.] [_To_ TURAI.] I give you my word, Sandor--those +lines were syllable for syllable the ones we heard last night through +the wall. + +TURAI. [_Looking at script._] By Jove, you’re right.... This is uncanny. + +MANSKY. Go on with the rehearsal, or they will be suspecting something. +I want to hear some more. [MANSKY _takes hold of_ ADAM’S _arm_. ADAM +_is very excited. Both listen intently._] + +TURAI. Well, let’s get on. “Now you want to throw me away.” + +ILONA. I don’t want to throw you away, silly, Oh, come on, then. Come +here and let me kiss that beautiful classic brow. [ALMADY _goes to +her_.] + +MANSKY. [_Shouting out._] Great Heavens! + +ILONA. [_Jumping._] What’s the matter? + +MANSKY. [_Whispering._] Listen, you two. They’re saying word for word +what we heard them say last night. Do you grasp now what they were +doing last night? _Rehearsing!_ Simply going through their lines. + +TURAI. [_To_ MANSKY.] I must admit ... this has come upon me as a +complete surprise.... Really, I’m quite shaken. + +ADAM. Imitate _me_. If I can be perfectly calm, you can. + +MANSKY. [_Pointing at_ TURAI.] And he never recognized it! + +ILONA. Mr. Turai! What’s going on? + +ALMADY. Yes. What’s all the discussion about? + +TURAI. [_To_ ALMADY.] Well, it’s like this. Mansky says--and I’m bound +to say I agree with him--that for the actual performance to-night you +will have to dig up a classic brow from somewhere. + +ALMADY. Dig up a classic brow? + +TURAI. You see, it’s rather awkward. The script says ... “Kiss that +beautiful classic brow.” + +ALMADY. Well? + +TURAI. Well, you’ll have to get one somewhere. + +ALMADY. [_Bitterly._] You think my own would not be convincing? + +MANSKY. My God, no! + +ALMADY. It has been so described. + +TURAI. In this play, yes. But, if you’ll pardon my saying so, you +wouldn’t suggest that any woman of taste could say such a thing in +_real_ life? + +ALMADY. [_Bitterly._] Very good. No doubt the property man will be able +to supply me with a face. + + [MELL _is appalled at the prospect of having to get a “face” but he + dutifully makes a notation of it in his little book_.] + +TURAI. Oh--my dear fellow. [_All go back to places._] + +ADAM. [_Impatiently._] We’re wasting time. Let’s get on. + +TURAI. Sh! Sh! We’ve only a few minutes more. + +ADAM. No more interruptions. + +MELL. Thank God! + +ILONA. Where were we? Oh, yes. Come here and let me kiss that beautiful +classic brow. [_Kisses him on forehead._] + +ALMADY. That’s not a kiss. That’s a tip. + +MANSKY. Surely that line is a trifle vulgar. + +TURAI. It’s vulgar because it’s spoken by a vulgar man. + +MANSKY. The speaker is a count. + +TURAI. But a dull-witted bounder, for all that. He’s the sort of man +who _would_ say things like that. Don’t you start trying to teach +Sardou how to write dialogue. + +ALMADY. [_Furious._] For God’s sake, are we going to rehearse? + +TURAI. Yes--go on, please. + +ALMADY. That’s not a kiss. That’s a tip. + +ILONA. Don’t shout like that. + +ALMADY. I will shout. I’m a squeezed lemon. That’s what I am--a lemon. +The whole world shall know I’m a lemon. [_Falls sobbing at her feet._] + + [MANSKY _whispers something to_ ADAM. ADAM _smiles happily and + whispers back. They shake hands._] + +TURAI. Please--please-- What’s the matter? + +MANSKY. Nothing. I was merely saying to Adam that I think that word +“_lemon_” is all wrong. + +TURAI. I think it’s excellent. Absolutely in character. The speaker is +a big lemon-and-peach man from Saint Sulpice de la Grande Parmentière, +and he naturally goes to the orchard for his similes. Try to realize +that he’s practically an imbecile with virtually no vocabulary. + + [ALMADY _looks up from_ ILONA’S _lap and registers indignation_.] + +[_Prompting._] ‘Please, please’-- [_To_ ILONA.] From you, my dear. +[_To_ ALMADY.] You’re crying. [ALMADY _sobs_.] + +ILONA. Please, please. Don’t cry. I can’t bear it. You know how fond I +am of you. [_She goes to table where peach is._] + +ALMADY. Those nights of love--those flaming, wonderful nights! Have you +forgotten them so completely? [_He stands up, and starts to touch the +peach._] + +ILONA. Stop! Control yourself. + +ALMADY. [_Gazing at peach._] You ask me to control myself--when I look +at _that_? At that perfect shape. The rose flush of that skin. [_Starts +to touch peach._] Just to stroke it.... + +ILONA. Hands off. + +ALMADY. [_Snatching up the peach, holds it in one hand and with the +other strokes it voluptuously._] My God! How round it is! How smooth, +how velvety--and how fragrant! [_Raises it to his mouth._] + +ILONA. You mustn’t bite it. [_She snatches his hand._] + + [MANSKY _gives a shriek and goes into fits of laughter_. ADAM + _stretches his arms out to_ MANSKY _and roars_. ADAM _slaps_ MANSKY + _on the back_, MANSKY _laughing uninterruptedly_. ALMADY _turns away + furiously_. ILONA _turns away, ashamed_.] + +MANSKY. [_Putting his arm around_ ADAM’S _shoulder_, _still laughing_.] +Heavens! What fools we’ve been! + +ADAM. Haven’t we? + +MELL. [_Eagerly._] Won’t you tell me the joke? + +ADAM. You wouldn’t understand. + +ILONA. What are you two so amused about? + +TURAI. [_Curtly._] Come, come. We’re wasting time. Let’s get on. + +MANSKY. Yes, get on. I want to hear this. Round, smooth, velvety and +fragrant. + +ADAM. And you mustn’t bite. + +ILONA. You mustn’t bite it. + +ALMADY. I must--I am so hungry. + + [ADAM _and_ MANSKY _go on laughing_. MELL _laughs too, but with a + puzzled look, as much as to say “I’m joining in, but I really don’t + understand.”_] + +ALMADY. [_Sits._] Ah well! I see I am nothing to you any more. + +ILONA. Oh, for goodness sake! I swear that no man-- [_Breaks off, +unable to go on._] + +TURAI. [_Prompting._] No man who has ever come into my life ... + +ILONA. ... has meant so much to me as you. From the top of your head to +the soles of your feet you are a _man_. + +TURAI. I think we might cut that last bit. + +ALMADY. Why? + +TURAI. Well, I mean to say.... A _little_ too _explicit_, don’t you +think? Rather too obvious a sexual implication. A wee bit _coarse_, +perhaps, yes? We must consider the feelings of the audience. [_To_ +MELL.] Will there be any young girls there to-night? + +MELL. Oh, yes, indeed. + +TURAI. Then we must cut it. They may bring their parents. Instead +suppose we say--“I love you, even though you _are_ only a poor +imitation of a man.” [ALMADY _registers rage_.] Go on. [_To_ ALMADY.] +“My God! I suffer....” + +ALMADY. [_Bitterly._] My God! I suffer like a sick horse. [_To_ TURAI.] +Look here, that ought to come out. + +TURAI. Why? + +ALMADY. How could anyone speak of himself so vulgarly? + +TURAI. We went into all that just now. Just what a cattle-raiser +_would_ say. + +ALMADY. But he’s a fruit-raiser! + +TURAI. Cattle, too. Cattle as a side line. + +ILONA. Don’t look so pathetic.... Well, come here. Kiss me. You donkey. + +ALMADY. [_Furiously to_ TURAI.] It’s too much.... Horse _and_ donkey. + +ADAM. [_Aside to_ MANSKY.] This is where I went out. How funny it seems +now. + +TURAI. [_Looks at script._] We’re getting near the end now. They kiss +here. [ALMADY _starts to kiss_ ILONA.] + +ILONA. [_Pushing him away._] Oh, never mind the kiss. Kiss over. + +ALMADY. [_Offended._] Just as you please. I want you to remember that +kiss for ever. + +ILONA. Your kiss is revolting to me. + +ALMADY. [_Despairingly--To_ TURAI.] Does that stay in? + +TURAI. My dear fellow, we can’t cut everything. + +ALMADY. But a line like that’s so damned personal. The audience will +loathe me. + +MANSKY. It beats me why on earth you ever chose a part like this. + + [ALMADY _looks toward_ TURAI _in mute appeal, but_ TURAI _is adamant + and metes out no mercy_.] + +TURAI. [_With subtle mockery._] Yes. It’s no business of mine, but I +must say I can’t understand that, either. It doesn’t help to cut lines +here and there. It’s the whole part. The character’s a bounder and a +fool. + +MANSKY. The author must have loathed this fellow. [_To_ TURAI.] You +notice that, Sandor, don’t you? + +TURAI. [_Ironically._] Of course, I noticed it. + +ILONA. Do let’s get to the end. [_Rises._] Mademoiselle Emilienne +describes you as an old fool. [ALMADY _glares_.] + +TURAI. [_Prompting._] And so I am. + +ALMADY. And so I am, Yvonne. [_Furious._] So I am. + +MANSKY. You certainly are. + +ILONA. [_Sincerely._] It’s disgusting that a man of your age should +persecute a woman, and by playing on her sense of gratitude seek to +obtain a love which she would never bestow as a free gift. + +ADAM. [_Crossing down to_ TURAI _and whispering_.] Uncle Sandor--will +you give me your word of honor that Ilona shall never know how +shamefully I suspected her? + +TURAI. Don’t be childish. + +ADAM. If ever she found out--she’d never look at me again. + +TURAI. I’ll never tell her. + +ILONA. Please don’t interrupt any more. + +ADAM. [_Bows elaborately and says with meaning._] Forgive me. [ILONA +_accepts his apology with an affectionate gesture, and when his back is +turned it is she who is mutely asking his forgiveness_.] + +TURAI. Go on! + +ILONA. Think of your wife. Think of your children. + +ALMADY. [_Turns away._] My children! + +ILONA. What would your son say? Your son, a highly respected colonel in +the Dragoons. + + [_This is too much. The Actor in_ ALMADY _is crushed. He comes down + to_ TURAI _brokenly and speaks supplicatingly_.] + +ALMADY. Mr. Turai. + +TURAI. [_Amiably._] Yes? + +ALMADY. It’s just a suggestion, but couldn’t we say lieutenant there? + +TURAI. I’m afraid not. You see it was “general” in the text. + +ALMADY. [_Wildly._] My son a general? + +ILONA. [_To_ TURAI.] How far back _can_ I go? + +TURAI. At the most a major. + +ILONA. [_Quickly._] Very well. Your son, a highly respected major in +the Dragoons. + +ALMADY. You are right, Yvonne. The shock would kill him. [ALMADY +_breaks off, evidently unwilling to speak his next line. But_ TURAI +_prompts him relentlessly_.] + +TURAI. A ridiculous old petticoat-chaser. + +ALMADY. [_Speaking the lines almost sotto voce in a casual offhand +manner._] A ridiculous old petticoat-chaser, that’s what I am. Bah! + +TURAI. Oh, come, Mr. Almady. Not so tamely, please. More _life_. Once +more. + +ALMADY. [_Comes down to_ TURAI _and says the line with petulance and +irritation_.] A ridiculous old petticoat-chaser, that’s what I am. Bah! + +TURAI. [_Relentlessly._] Still not quite strong enough. More gusto. +More sincerity. + +ALMADY. [_Shouts the line to relieve his fury._] A RIDICULOUS OLD +PETTICOAT-CHASER, THAT’S WHAT I AM. BAH! + +TURAI. [_Coldly._] Once more, please. + +ALMADY. [_Shouting to the full limit of his vocal chords in wild +desperation._] A RIDICULOUS OLD PETTICOAT-CHASER, THAT’S WHAT I AM. BAH! + +TURAI. [_With approval._] Fine--_that’s_ it. Now read it that way +at the performance. [ALMADY _returns upstage completely crushed and +beaten_.] + +ALMADY. [_Genuinely._] I promise you I shall never again make myself +obnoxious to this woman who loves another man and is sick and tired of +me. Never, never again. + +ILONA. [_Briskly._] Never again? + +ALMADY. [_Briskly._] Never again. + +ILONA. Then, Maurice, I will be generous. I will not go to Paris, and +you may eat the peach. + +ALMADY. [_Hurls himself at the peach._] My God! At last! [_Gnaws the +peach._] + +TURAI. [_Rising._] Curtain. + +MANSKY. The end? + +TURAI. The end. + +MANSKY. He really should have given his wife the peach. That would have +made a much prettier finish. + +TURAI. Oh, my dear fellow! Where’s your sense of character? The man’s +selfish to the core. He’d never give his wife peaches. + +MANSKY. A very unsympathetic part. Still, he played it well. + +TURAI. It fitted him. + +MELL. [_Dancing about in anguish, pointing to_ ALMADY, _incoherent with +agitation_.] Oh! Oh! + +TURAI. What’s the matter with you? + +MELL. He’s eating the peach! He’s eating the peach! I never dreamed +he was going to _eat_ the peach. I shall have to dash out and get +another. [_He rushes off to the hall._] + +ILONA. [_Takes off scarf. To_ ADAM, _who stands overcome with +happiness_.] Well, how do you like me in this part? + +ADAM. Oh, darling, you were wonderful, simply wonderful. And, if you +want to know what I think--this little comedy is worth all Shakespeare +put together. [_He kisses her hands._] + +MANSKY. Oh, no, no, no. The thing dates terribly. When did Sardou write +it? + +TURAI. I don’t know. What period Sardou is this, Mr. Almady? + +ALMADY. I should imagine it was his last work. + +MANSKY. Then he must have been a very old man at the time. It’s +terrible. He probably wrote it just before he died. + +TURAI. Or just after. [_To_ ILONA.] Can I have a minute? Just a few +things I’d like to tell you about your part. + +ILONA. Yes, yes, I shall be very grateful. [_To_ MANSKY _and_ ADAM.] Go +along. We shan’t be a moment. [_They go up the stairs at right._] + +MANSKY. What beats me is why an actor who has always played heroes +picked a part like that for himself. He must be terribly fond of +acting. [MANSKY _and_ ADAM _go out at right_.] + +TURAI. [_To_ ALMADY, _who is sitting dejectedly at left_.] You seem +upset. + +ALMADY. [_Miserably._] Not at all. [_He glares at_ TURAI.] + +TURAI. So you’ve decided to take the midnight express directly after +the performance? + +ALMADY. Yes. + +TURAI. I think you’re wise. A good, fruity train, highly spoken of by +connoisseurs. Well, just to show you the sort of fellows we Turais are, +I’ll let you off the major. Ilona, you can say lieutenant. + +ALMADY. Even lieutenant seems a little.... + +TURAI. Good God! We can’t make him a drummer boy. + +ALMADY. [_Picks up part._] Very well. So be it. I suppose I ought to be +thankful for small mercies. [_Goes toward door to hall._] + +TURAI. Where are you off to? + +ALMADY. I’m going to have another go at those infernal French names. +But in spite of everything--thank you. [ALMADY _bows and then goes +out_.] + +ILONA. [_Going to_ TURAI _and embracing him_.] Sandor, you’re an angel. +Was it awfully difficult, writing that play? + +TURAI. Oh, no. That damned peach stumped me for a while. Smooth, round, +velvety and fragrant, and you mustn’t bite. It wasn’t easy to get round +that. Believe me, there are very few things in this world that are +round, smooth, velvety--and respectable. + +ILONA. [_Turns head away._] Oh--he was talking about my shoulder. + +TURAI. [_With delicate irony and gazing at her shoulder, then kissing +it._] Really? I thought it was your forehead. + +ILONA. You’re an old devil--that’s what you are. + +TURAI. Just what I expected. Now that it’s all over, everybody else is +a gentleman and I’m an old devil. But somehow I don’t think I am. My +little Ilona, I have saved a young man a bad heartache. It’s a negative +kindness, but is there a positive one that’s better? Yes, on the +whole, I think I’m fairly well satisfied with myself. And there’s a +little old woman looking at me from somewhere--probably from hell--and +her eyes seem to be twinkling, as if she was satisfied, too. It’s +unfortunate, that you won’t have me always on hand to.... [_Re-enter_ +MANSKY _and_ ADAM.] + +MANSKY. [_On the landing, to_ ADAM.] Poor old Turai’s feeling awfully +sore about all this. He had a wonderful scheme for bringing you two +together, based on what he calls psychology. And now he’s furious +because that won’t be needed. [_Enter_ DWORNITSCHEK _from hall_.] + +ADAM. Sh! Ilona will hear you. Let’s drop the subject. + +DWORNITSCHEK. [_Standing at center._] Dinner is served. [ADAM _meets_ +ILONA _at center. They embrace and kiss lovingly and go out to the hall +arm in arm._] + +MANSKY. [_With self-satisfaction to_ TURAI.] So, my friend, it comes +down to this. There are many clever writers, but the most successful of +them all is still old man life himself. + +TURAI. That’s because he doesn’t have to collaborate with you. [_He +takes_ MANSKY’S _arm. As he passes_ DWORNITSCHEK _he stops and looks at +him_.] + +DWORNITSCHEK. [_Smiling._] Dwornitschek, sir. + +TURAI. Still Dwornitschek--Thank you. + +DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir. + +TURAI. No, no, my dear Dwornitschek, thank YOU. [TURAI _and_ MANSKY _go +out_.] + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber’s note + + +Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. +Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. + +Other spelling has been retained as originally published except for +the changes below. + + Page 35: “Everyday I’ve been” “Every day I’ve been” + Page 62: “ALMADY. [_To_ ALMADY.]” “ALMADY. [_To_ TURAI.]” + Page 74: “TURAI. My God!” “ILONA. My God!” + Page 111: “put the whip down on the” “puts the whip down on the” + Page 115: “peace that has ripened” “peach that has ripened” + Page 132: “This is to much.” “This is too much.” + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75451 *** |