Plays 2

by Georges Feydeau

  Massenay Exactly what I say: no right.

  Belgence Now just a minute. I didn’t get her up here so that you could say she has no right.

  Massenay Of course you didn’t. But I have to. Your happiness is at stake.

  Belgence My happiness?

  Massenay Naturally. And you’re lucky we found out today.

  He goes and puts his arm round Sophie’s waist.

  Massenay Found out how much in love we are.

  Belgence (opening his mouth soundlessly, like a beached fish) Mp.

  Sophie Oh, Émile.

  Massenay Yes, we’re still in love. And sooner or later, when two people love each other, fate has a habit of throwing them together. Dear friend that you are, we simply couldn’t risk hurting you.

  Belgence But –

  Massenay Obviously, you’re heartbroken.

  Belgence I am.

  Massenay It was the only way. Better be heartbroken now, get over it, than have it hanging over you some time in the future.

  Belgence But couldn’t you have –

  Massenay I know what you’re going to say. We should have sacrificed ourselves for you, for friendship. Of course we should, had it only been possible. But we had to deny ourselves. It would have been selfish, selfish.

  Belgence Pardon?

  Massenay Don’t you agree, darling?

  Sophie Oh darling, why are you still shackled?

  Massenay I’ll burst the shackles. I love you, you love me, we love each other, I’ll divorce Francine and we’ll remarry.

  Sophie (in his arms) Oh, Émile.

  Belgence No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

  Sophie Did you say something?

  Belgence No. Just no. I mean, no, I’d better go.

  Sophie If you feel you have to.

  Belgence Yes.

  But he sits, defeated, on the piano stool.

  Massenay After all, you came of your own free choice.

  Belgence If I’d realised …

  Sophie (rounding on him) Thanks! Thank goodness I found out in time.

  Belgence Found what out?

  Sophie The kind of man you are. Jealous, a dictator, brutal. Look at Émile: not a jealous bone in his body.

  Massenay You know me …

  Sophie Émile, jealous? Impossible!

  Belgence (piteously) You’re stealing my wife.

  Massenay Excuse me. I married her first.

  Sophie He did.

  Massenay To think I was ready to sacrifice myself for this man’s happiness. Now it’s our happiness, and listen to him.

  Sophie I’m glad I found out in time.

  Belgence (humbly) I’m sorry.

  Sophie Never mind. You can’t help the kind of man you are. I’m just pleased I found out before it’s too late. Émile, I have to go.

  Massenay Don’t be long.

  Sophie Oh, no. (To Belgence, different tone) You’ll drop me on?

  Belgence You don’t mind?

  Sophie Good heavens, you are our friend. Our friend.

  Exit.

  Belgence Really?

  Massenay (jovially punching him) Don’t be silly.

  Belgence (recoiling) No …

  Massenay Up to you.

  Belgence I … I just wish you’d told me.

  He rushes out.

  Massenay No pleasing some people. Chanal! Chanal!

  Enter Chanal.

  Chanal What is it?

  Massenay Dear boy, you see a man who loves his wife passionately, devotedly.

  Chanal Francine?

  Massenay Don’t be ridiculous. Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.

  Chanal What?

  Massenay Francine! I’m divorcing Francine.

  Chanal Ah. Well, the way things were going…

  Massenay What’s that mean? What things?

  Chanal Well, obviously: Coustillou.

  Massenay What about Coustillou?

  Chanal Good heavens, he was showering her with kisses.

  Massenay Coustillou? You’re joking.

  Chanal You’ll see for yourself.

  Massenay (who doesn’t believe a word of it) Well, so much the better. I want a divorce. Best thing all round. Francine’s always wanted Coustillou, now she can have him. And I … I remarry the wife I love.

  Chanal You can’t do that.

  Massenay Whyever not?

  Chanal It’s … bigamy.

  Massenay Of course it’s not bigamy. The law of nature, the imperative of nature, who can stand against it? Two hearts beating as one … Sh! Francine!

  Enter Francine.

  Francine It’s done. I’ve chosen one. A lover.

  Massenay Really?

  Francine You left me no choice. It’s settled. Tomorrow, he’ll be mine.

  Massenay Thanks for warning me.

  Francine You don’t believe me.

  Massenay I do.

  Francine It’s true.

  Massenay And this lover’s name is – ?

  Francine I’m not telling. You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.

  Massenay Whatever you say.

  Chanal (aside to him) She means it. It’s Coustillou.

  Massenay You’re joking.

  Chanal If he comes in like a normal person, will that convince you?

  Massenay Don’t be ridiculous.

  Chanal Just wait and see.

  Étienne Monsieur Coustillou.

  He ushers in Coustillou, who is entirely relaxed, very man-of-the-world, full of the joys of spring.

  Coustillou Now, now, Étienne. No need to tell them who I am. Massenay, good morning! How are you this morning? What about this weather? Birds carolling, sun shining, I was taking a constitutional, I said to myself, ‘I know, I’ll drop in on Massenay. Dear old Massenay!’ What’s wrong with you?

  Massenay He’s normal.

  Coustillou Chanal! My dear old fellow! Nice to see you, after all this time.

  Chanal You’re normal.

  Coustillou (going gallantly to Francine) Madame, I left the best till last. How are you? Since yesterday, how are you?

  Francine (aside) Stop being so normal You’re being normal.

  Coustillou (aside) My God, so I am. (He makes a pathetically bad attempt at his earlier manner) I … eugh … hoo … um …

  Massenay We know what’s going on.

  Coustillou No … hoo … erg … My dear, er…

  Massenay Massenay.

  Coustillou … Massenay, I … moo …

  Massenay What’s wrong with you? You were fine when you came in just now.

  Coustillou I? Moo? I’ve been taking lessons. They seem to be working.

  Massenay That’s obvious.

  Chanal (aside) This is ridiculous.

  Coustillou À propos, my dear fellow, I’ve an idea to put to you.

  Massenay What idea?

  Coustillou Dear friend … I think we live far too far from one another.

  Francine, Chanal, Massenay Ah!

  Coustillou continues, oblivious to the fact that Massenay knows exactly what’s going on, and has an agenda of his own.

  Coustillou You’ve a ground-floor apartment lying vacant. What would you say if I asked to rent it?

  Massenay (feigning amazement) You?

  Francine (aside, bewildered) What’s he playing at?

  Massenay My dear fellow! Nothing could be better! I’ve got the lease here. Just a minute …

  He takes Coustillou to the table, and starts writing.

  Chanal (aside) What do I get out of this?

  Massenay What date shall I put?

  Coustillou Today. I’ll move in tonight, and start tomorrow.

  Massenay Start tomorrow, eh? (Pretending there’s a problem.) There’s just one thing: I have to leave for Calais tomorrow evening. Two days away.

  Coustillou, Francine Ah!

  They look at one another. Chanal tries to warn Massenay, who pretends not to notice.

  Massenay Never mind. You don’t need me. Just ask the concierge.


  Coustillou Don’t worry, I’ll see to it.

  Massenay I’ll just finish this.

  Coustillou Thank you.

  Chanal (aside) The idiot.

  Coustillou (aside to Francine) Tomorrow night.

  Francine (aside) Try to stop me!

  Chanal (looking over Massenay’s shoulder) What are you writing? That’s not a lease.

  Massenay Read it.

  Chanal breaks away to read.

  Coustillou Is that the lease?

  Massenay (Machiavellian) Oh yes. Oh yes.

  Coustillou (to Francine) That’s it.

  Chanal (reading) ‘My dear Inspector Planteloup …’

  Massenay snatches it out of his hands.

  Massenay Don’t read it aloud, you fool.

  Chanal What are you playing at?

  Massenay You did it for me, I’m doing it for him. I’m doing it for you.

  Chanal Doing what?

  Massenay Remember? ‘Marriage is like standing on the bridge of a great ocean liner. The pilot comes aboard. You point him to the wheel, and say …’

  Chanal I’ve heard this before somewhere.

  Massenay Exactly. I divorce her, she marries him, you install yourself downstairs…

  Chanal And you say –

  Massenay ‘There you are, old boy. She’s all yours. Take her.’

  Final curtain.

  Jailbird

  Gibier de potence

  a farce in one act

  Characters

  Pépita, the music-hall singer ‘Sheherazade’

  Plumard, a herbalist, her husband

  Taupinier, Pépita’s admirer

  Lemercier, alias Grumpard, a schoolteacher

  Mariette, the maid

  Dubrochard, special constable

  Note In the original, Dubrochard was accompanied by two constables, who did not speak.

  The drawing-room of Pépita’s and Plumard’s house in Paris. Centre back, door to the hall. Upstage L, fireplace; upstage R, door to other parts of the house. Centre R, door to a closet; centre L, door to other parts of the house. Elegant furniture in the latest style, including a writing-desk. On the mantelpiece, a metre ruler (rigid); beside the fireplace, a child’s hoop adorned with little bells.

  As the curtain rises, Pépita is sitting in an armchair reading the paper, and Plumard is at the writing-desk finishing a letter.

  Plumard ‘… and you’ll recognise him by his appearance of total imbecility. Signed, a well-wisher.’ That ought to do it. He’s in for a great big shock.

  Pépita Oh no!

  Plumard What is it?

  Pépita She’s dead.

  Plumard Who’s dead?

  Pépita That poor girl, the victim of Suresnes.

  Plumard Oh, her.

  Pépita You’re always the same. Heartless. If it isn’t you who’s died.

  Plumard We’re like that, we men: robust. We have to be.

  Pépita No you haven’t.

  Plumard Excuse me, I think I know more about what men have to be than you know about what men have to be.

  Pépita Of course you do. (Aside) A music-hall singer, a doddering old herbalist: of course he does.

  Plumard There are some things women just aren’t made to know.

  Pépita (reading) ‘After a night of searing agony, during which every drop of blood in her body turned …’

  Plumard Turned?

  Pépita Like milk.

  Plumard Three pinches of chicory, four of watercress, that would have saved her.

  Pépita I was reading the paper, not asking for a prescription.

  Plumard Of course you were. But you know us medical people: never off duty …

  Pépita Medical people? You’re a herbalist. An old herbalist. A sort of glorified witch-doctor.

  Plumard Even witch-doctors have professional standards, my darling.

  Pépita Whatever you say. (Reading.) ‘As soon as the poor wretch was dead, they seized their chance and buried her.’ It’s awful.

  Plumard What d’you expect? As soon as she was dead … that’s life.

  Pépita They still haven’t found him: the murderer. No, they must have done. As soon as Taupinier gets here, I’ll send him for an evening edition.

  Plumard Ha! Taupinier’s coming, is he?

  Pépita What’s wrong with Taupinier? What have you got against Taupinier?

  Plumard Nothing. (Aside, as she shrugs and goes on reading.) Except that he’s after my wife, the swine. Every time he calls, she sends me out. ‘Take the hoop and play with Baby.’ Six months, it’s been going on. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m not one of those husbands who notice nothing. I knew from the start, well, from this lunchtime. I was reading Othello. Play, by some Englishman. Writes very good French, for an Englishman. I knew it at once! ‘Pillows,’ I thought, ‘yes, pillows.’ Then I thought, ‘No, too English.’ I decided on something more French, more lingering. So I grabbed a pen and wrote straight to the police. (Reading us his letter.) ‘Come to 7 rue des Anes, Monsieur and Madame Plumard, at five o’clock this afternoon. That swine’ll be there, that blackguard, that villain. And you’ll recognise him by his appearance of total imbecility. Signed, a well-wisher.’ A bit melodramatic, but I don’t care. Now, it’s five to four. One hour five minutes, then heh, heh, heh, heh.

  Doorbell, off. Enter Taupinier.

  Taupinier Afternoon.

  Pépita Ah! Lovely to see you. Run down to the shop and buy an evening paper. Then go to the police station…

  Taupinier It’s go, go, go with you. Never mind. I flit, hither, thither, I swoop like a swallow…

  He goes to the door.

  Plumard (muttering) Get on with it.

  Taupinier (coming back) I nearly forgot. What am I to do at the police station?

  Pépita Ask if anyone’s handed in my brooch. My diamond brooch … you know …

  Plumard I know. Your darling diamond dogshead. Woofles.

  Taupinier Oh, that brooch. So many memories …

  Plumard Pardon?

  Pépita (quickly) Memories of my father. He wore it, often.

  Plumard Your father wore a brooch?

  Pépita At functions. Only at functions. They never made him a Mason …

  Plumard One can see why.

  Taupinier Well, excuse me.

  Plumard (grabbing the tails· of his coat) Don’t be long. You haven’t got all day. You’ve time. It’s only just four. You’ve got an hour.

  Taupinier (baffled) Till when?

  Plumard Till five. I mean, we look forward to seeing you then, at five.

  Taupinier Till five, then. Till five.

  Exit.

  Pépita Isn’t he charming?

  Plumard Charming’s not the word. (Aside.) He’s in for such a shock.

  Enter Mariette.

  Mariette Madame, there’s a gentleman. Asks if you’re at home. Monsieur Lemercier.

  Pépita Never heard of him. Show him in. Ask him to wait. I’ll just straighten my hair. And so will Monsieur.

  Plumard What will Monsieur do?

  Pépita Comb his hair. What’s left of it.

  Plumard Yes, darling.

  Exeunt. Mariette shows in Lemercier. He has an umbrella in one hand and a pet-basket in the other, containing a small dog.

  Mariette This way, Monsieur.

  Lemercier You did say the right name? Lemercier?

  Mariette Yes, Monsieur.

  Lemercier Thanks.

  Exit Mariette. Lemercier mutters to himself.

  Lemercier, good. Not Grumpard. Must get things right. At home, in the classroom, it’s Grumpard, Latin teacher. In Paris, on the razzle, it’s Lemercier, man-about-town. Grumpard can’t go calling on actresses, singers … but Lemercier can. Oh, Sheherazade, Sheherazade … Oh, those Arabian Nights … brrrr-ha-hey! What a stroke of luck, at the theatre last night. ‘Poor Sheherazade,’ they were saying – I couldn’t help overhearing, since I was listening – ‘Poor Sheherazade. She’s broken-hearted. Sh
e’s lost her Woofles, and she’s almost beside herself.’ Beside herself! That’s where I intend to be. (To the dog in the basket.) Oh yes, ickle Woofles, did you know when I bought you just now in the flea-market, your name was Woofles? It is now, it is now. Oh, Sheherazade, she’ll be so grateful, Sheherazade … Someone’s coming!

  Enter Plumard.

  Lemercier Who’s this?

  Plumard (bowing) Delighted, delighted.

  Lemercier (bowing back) The feeling’s entirely mutual. (Aside.) Who is he?

  Plumard Please do sit down.

  Lemercier Just what I was going to say.

  They sit. Pause.

  Excuse me … I don’t want to seem … It’s just that … Are you the manager?

  Plumard Pardon?

  Lemercier The manager. Her manager. They all have managers. Are you the manager?

  Plumard I most certainly am not. I’m Monsieur Plumard.

  Lemercier Plumard. Monsieur Plumard. Ah. (Getting up to go.) This isn’t … she doesn’t … Sheherazade …

  Plumard This is where she lives, yes. Sheherazade. My wife.

  Lemercier You’re Monsieur Sheherazade?

  Plumard Plumard. I told you.

  Lemercier Ah. Unusual. Most wives have the same name as their husbands. Take mine, for instance. She’s Madame Grumpard, I’m Monsieur … Lemercier. (Aside.) Whoops.

  Plumard (getting up) I think I can explain. Please do sit down.

  Lemercier Just what I was going to say.

  They sit, as before.

  Plumard I’m a herbalist, Monsieur. Or was, at least. One day, Mamzelle Sheherazade asked me to call at the theatre. She was feeling a little … strained. Next morning, thanks to my advice, she was right as rain. I recommended: doing nothing at all.

  Lemercier Fine, if you don’t overdo it.

  Plumard As I say, next morning she was right as rain, and to cut a long story short, two weeks later we were married. And five months later, Monsieur, I was a father! A bouncing baby boy, full-size and perfect in every way.

  Lemercier Amazing.

  Plumard Astounding. Such a rare case, I wanted to write to the Academy of Medicine, but Madame said no. I’d have loved to hear how they explained it. As I say, astounding.

  Lemercier And as Horace says, ‘Parturiunt montes…’

  Plumard Does he really? (Aside.) Some foreign friend of his. (Aloud.) So now you see. Mamzelle Sheherazade is Madame Plumard. I made her keep her name for professional purposes. I mean, imagine a name like Plumard on theatre bills!

  Lemercier Oh, yes. Is Madame, ah, Plumard at home today?