King Arthur's Socks and Other Village Plays Part 13

_She turns to the door_.

Why does he not come for his answer?

_She looks for a lingering moment toward the door, and then turns back again to the table. Her mood changes again_.

A present from a husband to a wife!

_She takes it up in her hands_.

A lady's mirror! What was it that he said? "Look long and well into this mirror, and profit by what you see," My mirror from the Catacombs!

_She sinks into a chair, holding it between her hands as it rests on the table. Her tone is trance-like_.

I look. I see the end of all things. I see that nothing matters. Is that your message? Why do you grin at me? You laugh to think that my face is like your face--or will be soon--in a few years-tomorrow. You mock at me for thinking I am alive. I am dead, you say. Dead, like you.

Am I?

_She rises_.

No. Not yet. For a moment--a little lifetime--I have life, I Have lips and eyelids made for kisses. I have hands that burn to give caresses, and b.r.e.a.s.t.s that ache to take them. I have a body made to suffer the deep stings of love. This flesh of mine shall be a golden web woven of pain and joy.

_She takes up the skull again_.

You were alive once, and a virgin-martyr? You denied yourself love? You sent away your lover? No wonder you speak so plainly to me now. Back, girl, to your coffin!

_She puts the skull in the box, and closes the lid softly. She turns to the door and waits. At last he enters_.

HE. (_dejected_) You have--decided?

SHE. Yes. I have decided.

HE. I knew. It is no use. I will go.

_He turns to the door_.

SHE. Wait! (_He turns back incredulously_.) I have decided to go with you. (_He stands stock-still_.) Don't you understand? Take me. I am yours. Don't you believe it?

HE. Violante!

SHE. It is hard to believe, isn't it. I have been a child. Now I am a woman. And shall I tell you how I became a woman? (_She points to the box on the table_.) I looked in my mirror there. I saw that I was beautiful--and alive. Tell me, am I not beautiful--and alive?

HE. There is something terrible about you at this moment. I am almost afraid of you.

SHE. Kiss me, Luciano!

SWEET-AND-TWENTY

A COMEDY

To EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

"Sweet-and-Twenty" was first produced by the Provincetown Players, New York City, in 1918, with the following cast:

The Young Woman ........ Edna St. Vincent Millay The Young Man ... Ordway Tead The Agent .............. Otto Liveright The Guard .............. Louis Ell

The cherry-orchard scene was effectively produced on a small stage by a blue-green back-drop with a single conventionalized cherry-branch painted across it, and two three-leaved screens masking the wings, painted in blue-green with a spray of cherry blossoms.

_A corner of the cherry orchard on the country place of the late Mr.

Boggley, now on sale and open for inspection to prospective buyers. The cherry orchard, now in full bloom, is a very pleasant place. There is a green-painted rustic bench beside the path. . . .

A young woman, dressed in a light summer frock and carrying a parasol, drifts in from the back. She sees the bench, comes over to it and sits down with an air of petulant weariness.

A handsome young man enters from the right. He stops short in surprise on seeing the charming stranger who lolls upon the bench. He takes off his hat_.

HE. Oh, I beg your pardon!

SHE. Oh, you needn't! I've no right to be here, either.

HE. (_coming over to her_) Now what do you mean by that?

SHE. I thought perhaps you were playing truant, as I am.

HE. Playing truant?

SHE. I was looking at the house, you know. And I got tired and ran away.

HE. Well, to tell the truth, so did I. It's dull work, isn't it?

SHE. I've been upstairs and down for two hours. That family portrait gallery finished me. It was so old and gloomy and dead that I felt as if I were dead myself. I just had to do something. I wanted to jab my parasol through the window-pane. I understood just how the suffragettes felt. But I was afraid of shocking the agent. He is such a meek little man, and he seemed to think so well of me. If I had broken the window I would have shattered his ideals of womanhood, too, I'm afraid. So I just slipped away quietly and came here.

HE. I've only been there half an hour and we--I've only been in the bas.e.m.e.nt. That's why our tours of inspection didn't bring us together sooner. I've been cross-examining the furnace. Do you understand furnaces? (_He sits down beside her_) I don't.

SHE. Do you like family portraits? I hate 'em!

HE. What! Do the family portraits go with the house?

SHE. No, thank heaven. They've been bequeathed to some museum, I am told. They're valuable historically--early colonial governors and all that sort of stuff. But there is some one with me who--who takes a deep interest in such things.

HE. (_frowning at a sudden memory_) Hm. Didn't I see you at that real estate office in New York yesterday?

SHE. Yes. _He_ was with me then.

HE. (_compa.s.sionately_) I--I thought I remembered seeing you with--with him.