DESIRÉE:
A very old man?
FREDRIK:
Yes — no!
DESIRÉE:
No.
FREDRIK:
But —
DESIRÉE:
I must meet your Gertrude.
FREDRIK:
My Anne.
DESIRÉE:
Sorry — Anne.
FREDRIK:
She loves my voice, my walk, my mustache,
The cigar, in fact, that I’m smoking.
She’ll watch me puff until it’s just ash,
Then she’ll save the cigar butt.
DESIRÉE:
Bizarre, but
You’re joking.
FREDRIK:
She dotes on —
DESIRÉE:
Your dimple.
FREDRIK:
My snoring.
DESIRÉE:
How dear.
FREDRIK:
The point is, she’s really simple.
DESIRÉE (Smiling):
Yes, that much seems clear.
FREDRIK:
She gives me funny names.
DESIRÉE:
Like — ?
FREDRIK:
“Old dry-as-dust.”
DESIRÉE:
Wouldn’t she just?
FREDRIK:
You must meet my wife.
DESIRÉE:
If I must —
(Looks over her shoulder at him and smiles)
Yes, I must.
FREDRIK:
A sea of whims that I submerge in,
Yet so lovable in repentance.
Unfortunately, still a virgin,
But you can’t force a flower —
DESIRÉE (Rises):
Don’t finish that sentence!
She’s monstrous!
FREDRIK:
She’s frightened.
DESIRÉE:
Unfeeling!
FREDRIK:
Unversed.
She’d strike you as unenlightened.
DESIRÉE:
No, I’d strike her first.
FREDRIK:
Her reticence, her apprehension —
DESIRÉE:
Her crust!
FREDRIK:
No!
DESIRÉE:
Yes!
FREDRIK:
No!
DESIRÉE:
Fredrik ...
FREDRIK:
You must meet my wife.
DESIRÉE:
Let me get my hat and my knife.
FREDRIK:
What was that?
DESIRÉE:
I must meet your wife.
FREDRIK: DESIRÉE:
Yes, you must. Yes, I must.
DESIRÉE (Speaks): A virgin.
FREDRIK: A virgin.
DESIRÉE: Eleven months?
FREDRIK: Eleven months.
DESIRÉE: No wonder you dreamed of me!
FREDRIK: At least it was you I dreamed of, which indicates a kind of retroactive fidelity, doesn’t it?
DESIRÉE: At least.
FREDRIK (Suddenly very shy): Desirée, I —
DESIRÉE: Yes?
FREDRIK: Would it seem insensitive if I were to ask you — I can’t say it!
DESIRÉE: Say it, darling.
FREDRIK: Would you . . .
(He can’t)
DESIRÉE: Of course. What are old friends for?
(She rises, holds out her hand to him. He takes her hand, rises, too)
Wait till you see the bedroom! Stockings all over the place, a rather rusty hip-bath — and the Virgin Mary over the headboard.
(They exit, laughing, into the bedroom. MADAME ARMFELDT appears and sings, with one eye on the room)
MADAME ARMFELDT:
At the villa of the Baron de Signac,
Where I spent a somewhat infamous year,
At the villa of the Baron de Signac
I had ladies in attendance,
Fire-opal pendants . . .
Liaisons! What’s happened to them,
Liaisons today?
Disgraceful! What’s become of them?
Some of them
Hardly pay their shoddy way.
What once was a rare champagne
Is now just an amiable hock,
What once was a villa at least
Is “digs.”
What once was a gown with train
Is now just a simple little frock,
What once was a sumptuous feast
Is figs.
No, not even figs — raisins.
Ah, liaisons!
Now let me see . . . Where was I? Oh, yes . . .
At the palace of the Duke of Ferrara,
Who was prematurely deaf but a dear,
At the palace of the Duke of Ferrara
I acquired some position
Plus a tiny Titian . . .
Liaisons! What’s happened to them,
Liaisons today?
To see them — indiscriminate
Women, it
Pains me more than I can say,
The lack of taste that they display.
Where is style?
Where is skill?
Where is forethought?
Where’s discretion of the heart,
Where’s passion in the art,
Where’s craft?
With a smile
And a will,
But with more thought,
I acquired a chateau
Extravagantly o-
Verstaffed.
Too many people muddle sex
With mere desire,
And when emotion intervenes,
The nets descend.
It should on no account perplex,
Or worse, inspire.
It’s but a pleasurable means
To a measurable end.
Why does no one comprehend?
Let us hope this lunacy is just a trend.
Now let me see . . . Where was I? Oh, yes . . .
In the castle of the King of the Belgians
We would visit through a false chiffonier.
In the castle of the King of the Belgians
Who, when things got rather touchy,
Deeded me a duchy . . .
Liaisons! What’s happened to them,
Liaisons today?
Untidy — take my daughter, I
Taught her, I
Tried my best to point the way.
I even named her Desirée.
In a world where the kings are employers,
Where the amateur prevails and delicacy fails to pay,
In a world where the princes are lawyers,
What can anyone expect except to recollect
Liai . . .
(She falls asleep. FRID appears and carries her off. A beat)
CARL-MAGNUS (Off): All right, all right. It’s broken down. So do something! Crank it up — or whatever it is!
(FREDRIK and DESIRÉE appear at the bedroom door, FREDRIK in a bathrobe, DESIRÉE in a negligee)
FREDRIK: What can it be?
DESIRÉE: It can’t!
FREDRIK: The dragoon?
DESIRÉE: Impossible. He’s on maneuvers. Eighty miles away. He couldn’t . . .
CARL-MAGNUS (Off, bellowing): A garage, idiot! That’s what they’re called.
DESIRÉE: He could.
FREDRIK: Is he jealous?
DESIRÉE: Tremendously.
(Suppresses a giggle)
This shouldn’t be funny, should it?
FREDRIK: Let him in.
DESIRÉE: Fredrik . . .
FREDRIK: I am not a lawyer — nor are you an actress — for nothing. Let him in.
(DESIRÉE goes to open the door. CARL-MAGNUS enters, immaculate but brushing imaginary dust from his uniform. He is carrying a bunch of daisies)
DESIRÉE (With tremendous poise): Carl-Magnus! What a delightful surprise!
(Totally ignoring FREDRIK, CARL-MAGNUS bows stiffly
and kisses her hand)
CARL-MAGNUS: Excuse my appearance. My new motorcar broke down.
(Hand kiss. Presents the daisies)
From a neighboring garden.
DESIRÉE (Taking them): How lovely! Will you be staying long?
CARL-MAGNUS: I have twenty hours leave. Three hours coming here, nine hours with you, five hours with my wife and three hours back.
(Still ignoring FREDRIK)
Do you mind if I take off my uniform and put on my robe?
DESIRÉE: Well — at the moment it’s occupied.
CARL-MAGNUS (Not looking at FREDRIK): So I see.
DESIRÉE: Mr. Egerman — Count Malcolm.
FREDRIK: Sir.
CARL-MAGNUS (Still ignoring FREDRIK): Sir.
FREDRIK: I feel I should give you an explanation for what may seem to be a rather unusual situation.
(With tremulous aplomb)
For many years, I have been Miss Armfeldt’s mother’s lawyer and devoted friend. A small lawsuit of hers —nothing major, I’m happy to say — comes up in Court tomorrow morning and at the last minute I realized that some legal papers required her daughter’s signature. Although it was late and she had already retired . . .
DESIRÉE: I let him in, of course.
CARL-MAGNUS (Turning the icy gaze on her): And then?
DESIRÉE: Ah, yes, the — the robe. Well, you see . . .
FREDRIK: Unfortunately, sir, on my way to the water-closet —through Miss Armfeldt’s darkened bedroom — I inadvertently tripped over her hip-bath and fell in. Miss Armfeldt generously loaned me this garment while waiting for my clothes to dry in the bedroom.
CARL-MAGNUS: In that case, Miss Armfeldt, I suggest you return to the bedroom and see whether this gentleman’s clothes are dry by now.
DESIRÉE: Yes. Of course.
(She crosses between FREDRIK and CARL-MAGNUS and exits. Pacing, CARL-MAGNUS begins to whistle a military march. FREDRIK counters by whistling a bit of Mozart)
CARL-MAGNUS: Are you fond of duels, sir?
FREDRIK: I don’t really know. I haven’t ever tried.
CARL-MAGNUS: I have duelled seven times. Pistol, rapier, foil. I’ve been wounded five times. Otherwise fortune has been kind to me.
FREDRIK: I must say I’m impressed.
CARL-MAGNUS (Picking up fruit knife): You see this fruit knife? The target will be that picture. The old lady. Her face. Her eye.
(Throws knife, which hits target)
FREDRIK (Clapping): Bravo.
CARL-MAGNUS: Are you being insolent, sir?
FREDRIK: Of course — sir.
(DESIRÉE returns from the bedroom. She is carrying FREDRIK’s clothes in a soaking wet bundle. She has dipped them in the hip-bath)
DESIRÉE: They’re not very dry.
FREDRIK: Oh dear me, they’re certainly not, are they?
CARL-MAGNUS: A predicament.
FREDRIK: Indeed.
CARL-MAGNUS: I imagine, Miss Armfeldt, you could find this gentleman one of my nightshirts.
FREDRIK: Thank you, thank you. But I think I’d prefer to put on my own — er — garments.
(FREDRIK takes the wet bundle from DESIRÉE)
CARL-MAGNUS: Unfortunately, sir, you will not have the time for that.
(To DESIRÉE)
Perhaps you could tell him where to look.
DESIRÉE: Oh yes, yes. The left hand — no, the right hand bottom drawer of the — er —
(Indicating a chest of drawers)
... thing.
(FREDRIK gives her the wet clothes)
FREDRIK (Hesitating, then): Thank you.
(He goes into the bedroom. While he is away, DESIRÉE and CARL-MAGNUS confront each other in near-silence: CARL-MAGNUS whistles a bit of the march that he whistled at FREDRIK earlier. FREDRIK returns in a nightshirt, carrying the robe, which he holds out to CARL-MAGNUS)
Your robe, sir.
(CARL-MAGNUS receives it in silence. FREDRIK puts on the nightcap that goes with the nightshirt)
Well — er — goodnight. Miss Armfeldt, thank you for your cooperation.
(FREDRIK takes the wet bundle from DESIRÉE and exits)
CARL-MAGNUS (Sings, to himself):
She wouldn’t . . .
Therefore they didn’t . . .
So then it wasn’t . . .
Not unless it . . .
Would she?
She doesn’t . . .
God knows she needn’t . . .
Therefore it’s not.
He’d never . . .
Therefore they haven’t . . .
Which makes the question absolutely . . .
Could he?
She daren’t . . .
Therefore I mustn’t . . .
What utter rot!
Fidelity is more than mere display,
It’s what a man expects from life.
(The unit that DESIRÉE is sitting on starts to ride off as CHARLOTTE, seated at her breakfast table, rides on)
Fidelity like mine to Desirée
And Charlotte, my devoted wife.
Scene 5
BREAKFAST ROOM IN MALCOLM COUNTRY HOUSE
Breakfast for one (CHARLOTTE’s) — and an extra coffee cup — stands on an elegant little table. Music under.
CHARLOTTE: How was Miss Desirée Armfeldt? In good health, I trust?
CARL-MAGNUS: Charlotte, my dear. I have exactly five hours.
CHARLOTTE (Dead pan): Five hours this time? Last time it was four. I’m gaining ground.
CARL-MAGNUS (Pre-occupied): She had a visitor. A lawyer in a nightshirt.
CHARLOTTE: Now, that I find interesting. What did you do?
CARL-MAGNUS: Threw him out.
CHARLOTTE: In a nightshirt?
CARL-MAGNUS: In my nightshirt.
CHARLOTTE: What sort of lawyer? Corporation, maritime, criminal — testamentary?
CARL-MAGNUS: Didn’t your sister’s little school friend Anne Sorensen marry a Fredrik Egerman?
CHARLOTTE: Yes, she did.
CARL-MAGNUS: Fredrik Egerman ...
(Sings)
The papers,
He mentioned papers,
Some legal papers
Which I didn’t see there ...
Where were they,
The goddamn papers
She had to sign?
What nonsense!
He brought her papers,
They were important,
So he had to be there ...
I’ll kill him...
Why should I bother?
The woman’s mine!
Besides, no matter what one might infer,
One must have faith to some degree.
The least that I can do is trust in her
The way that Charlotte trusts in me.
(Speaks)
What are you planning to do today?
CHARLOTTE: After the five hours?
CARL-MAGNUS: Right now. I need a little sleep.
CHARLOTTE: Ah! I see. In that case, my plans will have to be changed. What will I do?
(Sudden mock radiance)
I know! Nothing!
CARL-MAGNUS: Why don’t you pay a visit to Marta’s little school friend?
CHARLOTTE: Ah ha!
CARL-MAGNUS: She probably has no idea what her husband’s up to.
CHARLOTTE: And I could enlighten her. Poor Carl-Magnus, are you that jealous?
CARL-MAGNUS: A civilized man can tolerate his wife’s infidelity, but when it comes to his mistress, a man becomes a tiger.
CHARLOTTE: As opposed, of course, to a goat in rut. Ah, well, if I’m back in two hours, that still leaves us three hours. Right?
CARL-MAGNUS (Unexpectedly smiling): You’re a good wife, Charlotte. The best.
CHARLOTTE: That’s a comforting thought to take with me to town, dear. It just may keep me from cutting my throat on the tram.
(CHARLOTTE exits)
CARL-MAGNUS:
Capable, pliable ...
Women, women ..
.
Undemanding and reliable,
Knowing their place.
Insufferable, yes, but gentle,
Their weaknesses are incidental,
A functional but ornamental
(Sips coffee)
Race.
Durable, sensible ...
Women, women ...
Very nearly indispensable
Creatures of grace.
God knows the foolishness about them,
But if one had to live without them,
The world would surely be a poorer,
If purer,
Place.
The hip-bath ...
About that hip-bath...
How can you slip and trip into a hip-bath?
The papers ...
Where were the papers?
Of course, he might have taken back the papers ...
She wouldn’t ...
Therefore they didn’t ...
The woman’s mine!
(He strides off)
Scene 6
THE EGERMAN ROOMS
In the bedroom, ANNE, in a negligee, sits on the bed while PETRA combs her hair.
ANNE: Oh, that’s delicious. I could purr. Having your hair brushed is gloriously sensual, isn’t it?
PETRA: I can think of more sensual things.
ANNE (Giggles, then suddenly serious): Are you a virgin, Petra?
PETRA: God forbid.
ANNE (Sudden impulse): I am.
PETRA: I know.
ANNE (Astonished and flustered): How on earth can you tell?
PETRA: Your skin, something in your eyes.
ANNE: Can everyone see it?
PETRA: I wouldn’t think so.
ANNE: Well, that’s a relief.
(Giggles)
How old were you when—
PETRA: Sixteen.
ANNE: It must have been terrifying, wasn’t it? And disgusting.
PETRA: Disgusting? It was more fun than the rolly-coaster at the fair.
ANNE: Henrik says that almost everything that’s fun is automatically vicious. It’s so depressing.
Four by Sondheim Page 16