slightly slanted, satin-like… Oh, my dear…
May I kiss the rays of your collarbone?
MIDIA:
Wait, be careful—that black tragedian
is watching us… soon the guests will leave…
Be patient!
MORN [laughing]:
Well, that should not be hard:
A whole night will make me tire of you
yet…
MIDIA:
Don’t joke like that, I don’t like it…
[The music dies down. The GUESTS exit the salon.]
DANDILIO [to the FOREIGNER]:
Wherever did you disappear to?
FOREIGNER:
I had woken up. The wind roused me.
It rattled the window frame. I barely
fell back asleep…
DANDILIO:
People here will find
that hard to believe.
MORN:
Ah, Dandilio…
I haven’t had a chance to talk with you…
What new things have you collected? What
rusty screws, what bracelets of pearl?
DANDILIO:
Things
are bad. Recently I found a fiery parrot—
huge and sleepy, with a crimson feather
in his tail—I found him in a little shop,
where he sits remembering the tunnel
of a smoking tropical river… I would have
bought him but I have a cat—these two
divine, mysterious creatures could not live
together… Each day I go and admire him:
he is a sacred parrot, he does not speak.
FIRST GUEST [to the SECOND GUEST]:
Time to go home. Take a look at Midia,
I think her smile is a suppressed yawn.
SECOND GUEST:
No, wait, they’re bringing more wine. Let’s drink.
FIRST GUEST:
But it’s getting rather dull…
MORN [opening a bottle]:
Here! Fly,
you cosmic cork, into the stuccoed heavens!
Burst forth, foam, like chaos, gushing, welling…
whoa… between the fingers of the Creator.
GUESTS:
To the King! To the King!
DANDILIO:
How about you, Morn?
Will you not drink?
MORN:
Certainly not. One gives
one’s life to the King, but drink—why
on earth drink?
FOREIGNER:
To this happy kingdom.
KLIAN:
To the Milky Way!
DANDILIO:
This wine will make
the stars flow in our heads…
ELLA:
Down in one,
to the fiery parrot!
KLIAN:
Ella, to our “tomorrow”!
MORN:
To the mistress of the house!
GANUS:
I want to ask…
It is unclear to me… Can we not toast
the previous master of the house?
MIDIA [dropping her glass]:
There.
All over my dress.
[Pause.]
FIRST GUEST:
Put salt on it.
DANDILIO:
There is
a saying: with the tears of happiness, any stain
immediately disappears…
MIDIA [to ELLA, quietly]:
Listen, your actor
is drunk, I think…
[Wipes her dress.]
MORN:
I read in a rare treatise—
here, Dandilio, you are a man of books—
that, while creating the world, God made a joke
at just the wrong moment…
DANDILIO:
In that same book,
I remember, it is also said that a guest
is as necessary to a house as air,
but if the breath drawn in is not released—
you will turn blue and die. So, Midia…
MIDIA:
What! So early?
DANDILIO:
It’s time, it’s time. My cat is waiting…
MIDIA:
Do come again…
FIRST GUEST:
It’s also time
for me, lovely Midia.
MIDIA:
That’s terrible!
You should stay…
ELLA [to GANUS, quietly]:
I beg you, please
also leave… You can visit her tomorrow
morning… She’s tired.
GANUS [quietly]:
I… don’t understand?
ELLA [quietly]:
Where is the joy in a reunion when one
is tired?
GANUS [quietly]:
No, I will stay…
[Moves off into semi-darkness by the round table. Meanwhile the GUESTS have been saying goodbye.]
FOREIGNER [to MIDIA]:
I won’t
forget my stay in your bewitching city:
the closer a fairy tale is to reality,
the more magical it is. But I fear something…
Trouble is ripening here unseen… In
the splendour, in the mirrors, I sense it…
KLIAN:
Don’t listen to him, Midia! He is only
here by chance. Quite the magician! I happen
to know he’s just a merchant’s errand boy…
he carries specimens of foreign goods around…
Is that not so? He’s slipped away!
MIDIA:
How funny
he is…
ELLA:
Farewell, Midia…
MIDIA:
Why so cold?
ELLA:
Not at all… I’m a little tired…
EDMIN:
I too
shall go… Goodnight.
MIDIA:
Foolish man!
[She laughs.]
SECOND GUEST:
Farewell.
If a guest really is like a breath of air,
then I leave here like a short, sad sigh…
[Everyone leaves except MORN and GANUS.]
MIDIA [stands in the doorway]:
Till next week.
[returns to the centre of the drawing room]
Ah, finally!
MORN:
Shh…
We’re not alone.
[Points to GANUS sitting inconspicuously.]
MIDIA [to GANUS]:
I say, you are far kinder
than my other guests, you’ve stayed…
[Sits down beside him.]
Tell me,
where have you acted? Your terrifying make-up
is excellent… Have you known Ella long?
A child… like wind… like a glimmer of water…
Klian is in love with her, the one with
the Adam’s apple and the horse’s mane—
a bad poet… No, really, it is frightening,
you are truly, truly an Arab… Morn, stop
whistling through your teeth…
MORN [at the other end of the room]:
You have
a nice clock here…
MIDIA:
Yes, it is very old…
In its depths there plays a crystal brook…
MORN:
It’s good… It’s a little slow, don’t you think? …
MIDIA:
Yes, I do…
[to GANUS]
And you… Is your home
far from here?
GANUS:
It’s close. Nearby.
MORN [by the window, yawning]:
What stars…
MIDIA [nervously]:
It must be slippery out in the street…
The snow has been spiralling since morning…
I was at the ice-rink today… Morn flutters
lik
e a bird on ice… why is the chandelier
lit for no reason…
[quietly to MORN as she passes by]
Look—he’s drunk…
MORN [softly]:
Yes, he was plied by Ella…
[approaches GANUS]
It’s very late!
Time to go home. It’s time, Othello!
Do you hear?
GANUS [heavily]:
Well, what can I say…
I dare not keep you… go…
MIDIA:
Morn… I’m scared…
His voice is thick, as though he’s strangling someone!…
GANUS [gets up and approaches]:
Enough… I will reveal my voice… enough!
I do not have the strength to wait any longer.
Off with my glove!
[to MIDIA]
Are you familiar
with these fingers?
MIDIA:
Oh! Morn, you must leave.
GANUS [passionately]:
Greetings! Are you not pleased? For it is I—
your husband! Risen from the dead!
MORN [utterly calmly]:
Risen indeed.
GANUS:
You are still here?
MIDIA:
Don’t!
I beg you both!…
GANUS:
Damned fop!…
MORN:
The hot whistle
of your black glove pleases me. I
answer it with mine…
MIDIA:
Ah!…
[She runs to the back of the stage, towards the niche, and opens the window in jerks. MORN and GANUS fight with their fists.]
MORN:
The table,
you’ll knock over the table!… What a windmill!…
Don’t swing your arms around so much! The table…
the vase!… I knew that would happen!… Ha-ha!
Stop tickling! Ha-ha!…
MIDIA [shouts out of the window]:
Edmin! Edmin! Edmin!…
MORN:
Ha-ha! The make-up’s running!… There, tear up
the carpet!… Go on! Don’t wheeze, don’t yelp!…
Fight more cleanly! Here comes a comma
and a full stop!
[GANUS collapses in a corner.]
MORN:
Blockhead… He’s undone my tie.
EDMIN [rushes in, pistol in hand]:
What happened?
MORN:
A mere two blows: the first
is called “a hook,” the second “a left jab.”
And, by the way, this gentleman here is—
Midia’s husband…
EDMIN:
Is he dead?
MORN:
Not likely…
Watch, he’ll come to now. Ah, welcome
back! This is my second at your service…
[He notices that MIDIA is lying unconscious at the back of the stage, near the window.]
O, God! My poor love!… Edmin… wait…
Yes, call someone… Oh, my poor love…
You shouldn’t have, you shouldn’t have… really…
We were just playing…
[Two MAIDS rush in: they and MORN attend to MIDIA at the back of the stage.]
GANUS [gets up heavily]:
I… accept… the challenge.
Horrible… give me a handkerchief… or something…
How horrible…
[wipes his face]
Ten paces apart and the first
shot is mine… by right: I am the wronged party…
EDMIN [looks around frantically]:
Listen… wait… you may find this strange…
But I must… ask you… to decline the duel…
GANUS:
I don’t understand? …
EDMIN:
If you wish, I will take
his place… face your bullet… I am ready…
Right now, if you like…
GANUS:
Evidently I am
losing my mind.
EDMIN [quietly and briskly]:
Well then, I’ll break my vow!…
I will reveal it to you… duty requires me…
But you must swear to me, on love, disdain,
or on your hatred, on what you will, that you
will never speak of this terrible secret…
GANUS:
… I’m sorry, but what is all this about?
EDMIN:
Here, I’ll reveal it to you, he—this man—
he is… oh, I can’t!
GANUS:
Hurry up!
EDMIN:
Oh, come what may! He is…
[Whispers in his ear.]
GANUS:
That’s a lie!
[EDMIN whispers.]
No, no… It cannot be! O, God…
what should I do? …
EDMIN:
You must decline!
There is no other way… Decline!…
MIDIA [to MORN at the back of the stage]:
My joy,
don’t leave…
MORN:
Wait… let me just…
GANUS [firmly]:
No!
EDMIN:
Why did I break my…
MORN [approaching]:
So, have you decided?
GANUS:
Yes, we have decided. But I’m not much
of a murderer: we shall fight à la courte paille.
MORN:
Excellent… A solution has been found. We
shall agree the details tomorrow. Goodnight.
May I add that duels are not to be
discussed with ladies. Midia could not bear it.
Keep silent to the end. Let’s go, Edmin.
[to MIDIA]
I’m leaving, Midia… Be calm…
MIDIA:
Wait … I’m frightened …
What was the outcome?
MORN:
Nothing. We made up.
MIDIA:
Listen, take me away from here!…
MORN:
Your eyes
are like swallows in autumn, when they cry out:
“Southwards …” Let me go …
MIDIA:
Wait, wait…
You’re laughing through tears!…
MORN:
Through rainbows, Midia!
I am so happy that my happiness,
as it glimmers, overflows the brim.
Adieu—Edmin, let’s go. Adieu. All’s well…
[MORN and EDMIN leave. Pause.]
GANUS [slowly approaches MIDIA]:
Midia, what is all this? Oh… say something—
my wife, my bliss, my madness—I am waiting…
Tell me all this is a joke, a motley, evil
masquerade, in which a gentleman in tails
strikes a painted Moor… do smile! For I
am laughing… I’m cheery…
MIDIA:
I don’t know what
to say to you…
GANUS:
Just say one word; I will
believe anything… anything… Empty jealousy
intoxicated me—is that not so?—
like wine drunk in port after one’s been
long tossed at sea. O, say something…
MIDIA:
Listen, I will explain… You left—that much
I remember. God saw how I grieved.
Your things spoke to me, they smelled of you…
I was unwell… But gradually my memory
of you lost its warmth… You grew cold
in me—you were still living and yet
already incorporeal. Then you became
transparent, a kind of familiar ghost;
and finally, faint and translucent, you left
my heart on tiptoe… I thought—forever…
I resigned myself. And then my heart<
br />
renewed itself and came alight. I wanted
so much to live, to breathe, to whirl about.
Oblivion granted me freedom… And now,
suddenly, you come back from the dead, now,
suddenly, you burst so violently into a life
that’s foreign to you… I don’t know what to say
to you… How do I talk to a ghost who has
come back to life? I just don’t know…
GANUS:
The last
time I saw your face was through bars.
You lifted up your veil, to dab your nose—
with a crumpled handkerchief—like this,
like this…
MIDIA:
Who is to blame? Why did you leave?
Why did you need to fight—against happiness,
against fire and truth, against the King? …
GANUS:
Ha-ha… The King… O, God… The King!…
This is madness… madness!…
MIDIA:
You frighten me—
don’t laugh like that…
GANUS:
It’s nothing. It has passed…
Three nights I have not slept… I’m rather tired.
All autumn-long I wandered lost. Understand,
Midia, that I fled: I could not stand
my punishment… I came to know the sleepless
sound of night pursuits. I starved.
I too cannot tell you…
MIDIA:
… And all this
just to paint your face, and afterwards…
GANUS:
But I wanted to please you!
MIDIA:
…and afterwards
to be beaten and to roll around
like a drunken fool in the corner,
and to forgive the wrongdoer everything,
and to turn the insult into a joke,
to humiliate yourself in front of me…
Disgusting! Take this pillow, smother me!
For I love another!… Smother me!… No,
all he can do is cry… Enough… I’m tired…
Go…
GANUS:
Forgive me, Midia… I didn’t know…
It is as though for four years I eavesdropped
at a door, entered it—and found no one.
I’ll leave. Just let me see you… Once a week,
no more… I will live at Tremens’s. Only
don’t go away…
MIDIA:
Let go of my knees!
Leave… do not torture me… Enough—
I will go mad!…
GANUS:
Farewell… Don’t be angry…
forgive me—for I did not know. Give me
your hand—no, just to say goodbye. I must
look funny—I’ve smudged my make-up… Well…
I’m leaving… Lie down… It’s getting light…
[Leaves.]
MIDIA:
Fool!
CURTAIN
ACT II.
TREMENS’S room. TREMENS is in the same pose as in act I, scene i.
GANUS sits at the table, laying out playing cards.
TREMENS:
The bliss of emptiness… Non-existence…
So shall I keep repeating to you, until
with trembling hands you squeeze together
The Tragedy of Mister Morn Page 5