Clair de Lune Part 10

The music becomes more breathless; the hooded figure plays a screaming tone upon his flute. Immediately a third slave, attired as a drummer, rushes out and catches his flute from the green masque, who jumps upon the stage, and seizing the dancer, savagely--gracefully, about her slim waist, dances with her, at once tenderly and primitively._]

QUEEN

What agility and strength the man has got. He has made me catch my breath already, which is far better than to laugh.

JOSEPHINE

He dances like a demon over burning altars.

PRINCE

What was that, Josephine?

JOSEPHINE

Don't distract my attention.

PRINCE [_laughing_]

Attention? Attention? Why, Josephine, I never knew that gift was among your talents!

JOSEPHINE

Sh! Sh!

[_During the dance, the Hindu girl becomes more and more enamoured of her partner, who eludes and attacks her in a perfect frenzy of grace and pa.s.sion. Finally she tries to unmask him or to pull off his cloak, without success. A chime is heard. The drummers play a strange, sinister march. An old man enters--the slave owner. He sees his slave in the arms of one whom she obviously loves, and rushes at the masked figure with his sword.

At this the green mask flings the girl away from him, tears off his mask, throws open his coat and stands revealed before the slave owner, but with his back to the audience. The man is about to let fall his sword when he looks upon what he is about to kill. Gradually his jaw drops with amazement and he lets out a terrible yell of laughter. The slave girl who has stood watching him, now creeps round to see what is causing him so much mirth, and gazing up suddenly into the face of her partner utters a shriek of horror and runs from the stage. The slave owner follows her, his sides shaking with laughter. The figure stands rigidly transfixed, his back still to the audience._]

JOSEPHINE [_leaning forward eagerly_]

What can he be like! I wish he would turn round.

PRINCE

You seem interested, Josephine. Do these wretched mummers really ...

[_But JOSEPHINE is leaning forward intently for the music has begun again. This time the figure is doing a strange dance of loneliness and search for his departed partner, his mask lies upon the ground, but he shields himself with his cloak.

Occasionally in the wildness of his dance it slips a little, permitting glimpses of parts of his face._]

QUEEN [_suddenly in a tone of fright_]

What is it the man has upon his face? Is it a great scar?

JOSEPHINE

No! No! It is his mouth that is like that.

[_Her excitement is obviously gathering to an almost unbearable point as the dance proceeds. In a low voice:_]

Oh, he is deformed, he is terribly deformed, his shoulders are not abreast of one another. Or is it some devil's head squatting upon his body of an angel.

A VOICE

No, it is his legs; they are bent in opposite directions.

A VOICE

No wonder the lady will not come back to him!

[_GWYMPLANE'S dance seems to be reaching a climax; he has nosed about the floor like a dog; he has tried to leap over the roof in order to discover his lost sweetheart, and now he turns facing the audience, his arms outstretched in pitiful dejection. There is an instant's deep silence, and then a great laugh rings out from the audience. The QUEEN herself rocks to and fro, backward and forward behind her fan. JOSEPHINE starts forward, in her face a mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt, giving gradually way to some sinister thought which makes her gaze fixedly at the mountebank with parted lips. Her unswerving glance at length draws his eyes towards her and for one single instant their glances seem to pa.s.s through one another--the exquisite d.u.c.h.ess, the grotesque clown.

No one has seen the look, save PHEDRO, who wipes his lips with an expression of intense amus.e.m.e.nt. Suddenly from behind GWYMPLANE steps DEA, and he returns with an almost imperceptible start to his act. Seeing this lovely apparition, he throws himself at her feet, and she, apparently perceiving him, does not repel him but puts her slim hands in his wild hair, and they go through some tender motions to an exquisite melody upon the flute. Gradually with gestures of pity and love she invites him to go with her, and he hardly believing is about to be led away, when suddenly the oriental melody begins again. The dancer appears. She glances at GWYMPLANE with the hypnotized fascination of utter horror. DEA attempts drawing GWYMPLANE away, but he resists, becoming again a victim to the old charm. The slave girl, with a wild gesture, offers herself to him. Simultaneously, DEA motions him with prayer to go with her. He makes some pitiful indecisive motions between them. DEA wrings her hands; the slave girl smiles; when, with a sudden gesture of despair, GWYMPLANE takes out his knife and makes a motion of cutting out his heart, then sinks upon the ground, and suddenly holds up his heart dripping with blood in his two pale hands. The slave girl tries to s.n.a.t.c.h it, but he gives it to DEA, who presses it against her own. GWYMPLANE breathes his last, and the slave, falling at the feet of DEA, licks the blood from the heart of her dancer off the floor._

_Miniature curtain descends to some strange music recalling the chimes of a clock._]

QUEEN

What an extraordinary pantomime! I think these mummers act too well.

They will leave a memory, and I have far too many memories already.

JOSEPHINE

[_Trying to conceal the impression the play has made on her._]

I shall never have any memories. When the door closes I shall forget.

PRINCE

Perhaps you are not so agile as you think. Something of you may catch in the door when it slams, and go on aching forever.

QUEEN [_tolerantly_]

Inexperience can always afford to be a little ridiculous, can it not?

[_rises_] Well, it has all been very entertaining. I have really immensely enjoyed myself.

[_Turning to her courtiers and taking a brooch from her lace._]

I think we should give the clown some token of tonight's amus.e.m.e.nt.

[_to a servant_] Go and tell Messire Gwymplane to attend us.

PRINCE

The performance of this mountebank has agitated me. [_pa.s.sing his hand over his brow._] I want to forget something in motion, in motion.

JOSEPHINE

[_Looking at him and at the QUEEN, and twinkling with a sort of spiteful mischief._]

It will be delicious to dance tonight. The starving should dance, the replete should dream! Come! [_takes his arm_]