Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 123

PHOTOGRAPHER. I spoiled three films photographing that scamp. You will have to answer for this, sir. I will hold you responsible.

TOURIST. An official report! An official report! Such a bare-faced deception. Mary, Jimmie, Aleck, Charlie, call a policeman.

HOTEL KEEPER [_drawing back, in despair_]. But, I can't make him fall if he doesn't want to. I did everything in my power, ladies and gentlemen!

MILITARY WOMAN. I will not allow it.

HOTEL KEEPER. Excuse me. I promise you on my word of honor that the next time he will fall. But he doesn't want to, to-day.

UNKNOWN MAN. What's that? What did you say about the next time?

HOTEL KEEPER. You shut up there!

UNKNOWN MAN. For ten dollars?

PASTOR. Pray, what impudence! I just made his peace with heaven when he was in danger of his life. You have heard him threatening to fall on my head, haven't you? And still he is dissatisfied. Adulterer, thief, murderer, coveter of your neighbor's a.s.s--

PHOTOGRAPHER. Ladies and gentlemen, an a.s.s!

SECOND PHOTOGRAPHER. Where, where is an a.s.s?

PHOTOGRAPHER [_calmed_]. I thought I heard one.

SECOND PHOTOGRAPHER. It is you who are an a.s.s. I have become cross-eyed on account of your shouting: "An a.s.s! An a.s.s!"

MARY [_wearily_]. Papa, children, look! A policeman is coming.

[_Excitement and noise. On one side a crowd pulling a policeman, on the other the hotel keeper; both keep crying: "Excuse me!

Excuse me!"_]

TOURIST. Policeman, there he is, the fakir, the swindler.

PASTOR. Policeman, there he is, the adulterer, the murderer, the coveter of his neighbor's a.s.s--

POLICEMAN. Excuse me, excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. We will bring him to his senses in short order and make him confess.

HOTEL KEEPER. I can't make him fall if he doesn't want to.

POLICEMAN. Hey, you, young man out there! Can you fall or can't you?

Confess!

UNKNOWN MAN [_sullenly_]. I don't want to fall!

VOICES. Aha, he has confessed. What a scoundrel!

TALL TOURIST. Write down what I dictate, policeman--"Desiring--for the sake of gain to exploit the sentiment of love of one's neighbor--the sacred feeling--a-a-a--"

TOURIST. Listen, children, they are drawing up an official report. What exquisite choice of language!

TALL TOURIST. The sacred feeling which--

POLICEMAN [_writing with painful effort, his tongue stuck out_]. Love of one's neighbor--the sacred feeling which--

MARY [_wearily_]. Papa, children, look! An advertis.e.m.e.nt is coming.

[_Enter musicians with trumpets and drums, a man at their head carrying on a long pole a huge placard with the picture of an absolutely bald head, and printed underneath: "I was bald."_]

UNKNOWN MAN. Too late. They are drawing up a report here. You had better skidoo!

THE MAN CARRYING THE POLE [_stopping and speaking in a loud voice_]. I had been bald from the day of my birth and for a long time thereafter.

That miserable growth, which in my tenth year covered my scalp was more like wool than real hair. When I was married my skull was as bare as a pillow and my young bride--

TOURIST. What a tragedy! Newly married and with such a head! Can you realize how dreadful that is, children?

[_All listen with interest, even the policeman stopping in his arduous task and inclining his ear with his pen in his hand._]

THE MAN CARRYING THE POLE [_solemnly_]. And the time came when my matrimonial happiness literally hung by a hair. All the medicines recommended by quacks to make my hair grow--

TOURIST. Your note-book, Jimmie.

MILITARY WOMAN. But when is he going to fall?

HOTEL KEEPER [_amiably_]. The next time, lady, the next time. I won't tie him so hard--you understand?

[_Curtain._]

THE BOOR

A COMEDY

BY ANTON TCHEKOFF TRANSLATED BY HILMAR BAUKAGE.

Copyright, 1915, by Samuel French.

CHARACTERS

HELENA IVANOVNA POPOV [_a young widow, mistress of a country estate_].

GRIGORJI STEPANOVITCH SMIRNOV [_proprietor of a country estate_].

LUKA [_servant of Mrs. Popov_].

A GARDENER.

A COACHMAN.

_Several Workmen._