Three Plays Part 2

THE MANAGER (_with feigned comic dismay_). So you and these other friends of yours have been born characters?

THE FATHER. Exactly, and alive as you see! (_Manager and actors burst out laughing_).

THE FATHER (_hurt_). I am sorry you laugh, because we carry in us a drama, as you can guess from this woman here veiled in black.

THE MANAGER (_losing patience at last and almost indignant_). Oh, chuck it! Get away please! Clear out of here! (_to Property Man_). For Heaven's sake, turn them out!

THE FATHER (_resisting_). No, no, look here, we....

THE MANAGER (_roaring_). We come here to work, you know.

LEADING ACTOR. One cannot let oneself be made such a fool of.

THE FATHER (_determined, coming forward_). I marvel at your incredulity, gentlemen. Are you not accustomed to see the characters created by an author spring to life in yourselves and face each other? Just because there is no "book"

(_pointing to the Prompter's box_) which contains us, you refuse to believe....

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_advances towards Manager, smiling and coquettish_). Believe me, we are really six most interesting characters, sir; side-tracked however.

THE FATHER. Yes, that is the word! (_To Manager all at once_): In the sense, that is, that the author who created us alive no longer wished, or was no longer able, materially to put us into a work of art. And this was a real crime, sir; because he who has had the luck to be born a character can laugh even at death. He cannot die. The man, the writer, the instrument of the creation will die, but his creation does not die. And to live for ever, it does not need to have extraordinary gifts or to be able to work wonders. Who was Sancho Panza? Who was Don Abbondio? Yet they live eternally because--live germs as they were--they had the fortune to find a fecundating matrix, a fantasy which could raise and nourish them: make them live for ever!

THE MANAGER. That is quite all right. But what do you want here, all of you?

THE FATHER. We want to live.

THE MANAGER (_ironically_). For Eternity?

THE FATHER. No, sir, only for a moment ... in you.

AN ACTOR. Just listen to him!

LEADING LADY. They want to live, in us...!

JUVENILE LEAD (_pointing to the Step-Daughter_). I've no objection, as far as that one is concerned!

THE FATHER. Look here! look here! The comedy has to be made.

(_To the Manager_): But if you and your actors are willing, we can soon concert it among ourselves.

THE MANAGER (_annoyed_). But what do you want to concert? We don't go in for concerts here. Here we play dramas and comedies!

THE FATHER. Exactly! That is just why we have come to you.

THE MANAGER. And where is the "book"?

THE FATHER. It is in us! (_The actors laugh_). The drama is in us, and we are the drama. We are impatient to play it.

Our inner pa.s.sion drives us on to this.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_disdainful, alluring, treacherous, full of impudence_). My pa.s.sion, sir! Ah, if you only knew! My pa.s.sion for him! (_Points to the Father and makes a pretence of embracing him. Then she breaks out into a loud laugh_).

THE FATHER (_angrily_). Behave yourself! And please don't laugh in that fas.h.i.+on.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. With your permission, gentlemen, I, who am a two months' orphan, will show you how I can dance and sing.

(_Sings and then dances_). Prenez garde a Tchou-Thin-Tchou.

Les chinois sont un peuple malin, De Shangai a Pekin, Ils ont mis des ecriteux partout: Prenez garde a Tchou-Thin-Tchou.

ACTORS and ACTRESSES. Bravo! Well done! Tip-top!

THE MANAGER. Silence! This isn't a cafe concert, you know!

(_Turning to the Father in consternation_): Is she mad?

THE FATHER. Mad? No, she's worse than mad.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_to Manager_). Worse? Worse? Listen!

Stage this drama for us at once! Then you will see that at a certain moment I ... when this little darling here ...

(_Takes the Child by the hand and leads her to the Manager_): Isn't she a dear? (_Takes her up and kisses her_). Darling! Darling! (_Puts her down again and adds feelingly_): Well, when G.o.d suddenly takes this dear little child away from that poor mother there; and this imbecile here (_seizing hold of the Boy roughly and pus.h.i.+ng him forward_) does the stupidest things, like the fool he is, you will see me run away. Yes, gentleman, I shall be off.

But the moment hasn't arrived yet. After what has taken place between him and me (_indicates the Father with a horrible wink_), I can't remain any longer in this society, to have to witness the anguish of this mother here for that fool.... (_indicates the Son_). Look at him! Look at him!

See how indifferent, how frigid he is, because he is the legitimate son. He despises me, despises him (_pointing to the Boy_), despises this baby here; because ... we are b.a.s.t.a.r.ds (_goes to the Mother and embraces her_). And he doesn't want to recognize her as his mother--she who is the common mother of us all. He looks down upon her as if she were only the mother of us three b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Wretch! (_She says all this very rapidly, excitedly. At the word "b.a.s.t.a.r.ds" she raises her voice, and almost spits out the final "Wretch!"_).

THE MOTHER (_to the Manager, in anguish_). In the name of these two little children, I beg you.... (_She grows faint and is about to fall_). Oh G.o.d!

THE FATHER (_coming forward to support her as do some of the actors_). Quick a chair, a chair for this poor widow!

THE ACTORS. Is it true? Has she really fainted?

THE MANAGER. Quick, a chair! Here!

(_One of the actors brings a chair, the others proffer a.s.sistance. The Mother tries to prevent the Father from lifting the veil which covers her face_).

THE FATHER. Look at her! Look at her!

THE MOTHER. No, no; stop it please!

THE FATHER (_raising her veil_). Let them see you!

THE MOTHER (_rising and covering her face with her hands, in desperation_). I beg you, sir, to prevent this man from carrying out his plan which is loathsome to me.

THE MANAGER (_dumbfounded_). I don't understand at all. What is the situation? Is this lady your wife? (_to the Father_).

THE FATHER. Yes, gentlemen: my wife!

THE MANAGER. But how can she be a widow if you are alive?

(_The actors find relief for their astonishment in a loud laugh_).

THE FATHER. Don't laugh! Don't laugh like that, for Heaven's sake. Her drama lies just here in this: she has had a lover, a man who ought to be here.

THE MOTHER (_with a cry_). No! No!

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Fortunately for her, he is dead. Two months ago as I said. We are in mourning, as you see.