Three Plays Part 11

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_unable to contain herself_). Oh my G.o.d!

(_Puts a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from laughing_).

THE MANAGER (_turning round_). What's the matter?

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Nothing, nothing!

THE MANAGER (_to Leading Man_). Go on!

LEADING MAN. You've been here before, eh? Well then, there's no need to be so shy, is there? May I take off your hat?

(THE LEADING MAN _says this last speech in such a tone and with such gestures that the_ STEP-DAUGHTER, _though she has her hand to her mouth, cannot keep from laughing_).

LEADING LADY (_indignant_). I'm not going to stop here to be made a fool of by that woman there.

LEADING MAN. Neither am I! I'm through with it!

THE MANAGER (_shouting to Step-Daughter_). Silence! for once and all, I tell you!

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Forgive me! forgive me!

THE MANAGER. You haven't any manners: that's what it is! You go too far.

THE FATHER (_endeavouring to intervene_). Yes, it's true, but excuse her....

THE MANAGER. Excuse what? It's absolutely disgusting.

THE FATHER. Yes, sir, but believe me, it has such a strange effect when....

THE MANAGER. Strange? Why strange? Where is it strange?

THE FATHER. No, sir; I admire your actors--this gentleman here, this lady; but they are certainly not us!

THE MANAGER. I should hope not. Evidently they cannot be you, if they are actors.

THE FATHER. Just so: actors! Both of them act our parts exceedingly well. But, believe me, it produces quite a different effect on us. They want to be us, but they aren't, all the same.

THE MANAGER. What is it then anyway?

THE FATHER. Something that is ... that is theirs--and no longer ours....

THE MANAGER. But naturally, inevitably. I've told you so already.

THE FATHER. Yes, I understand ... I understand....

THE MANAGER. Well then, let's have no more of it! (_Turning to the actors_): We'll have the rehearsals by ourselves, afterwards, in the ordinary way. I never could stand rehearsing with the author present. He's never satisfied!

(_Turning to Father and Step-Daughter_): Come on! Let's get on with it again; and try and see if you can't keep from laughing.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Oh, I shan't laugh any more. There's a nice little bit coming for me now: you'll see.

THE MANAGER. Well then: when she says "Don't think any more of what I've said. I must forget, etc.," you (_addressing the Father_) come in sharp with "I understand, I understand"; and then you ask her....

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_interrupting_). What?

THE MANAGER. Why she is in mourning.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Not at all! See here: when I told him that it was useless for me to be thinking about my wearing mourning, do you know how he answered me? "Ah well," he said "then let's take off this little frock."

THE MANAGER. Great! Just what we want, to make a riot in the theatre!

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. But it's the truth!

THE MANAGER. What does that matter? Acting is our business here. Truth up to a certain point, but no further.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. What do you want to do then?

THE MANAGER. You'll see, you'll see! Leave it to me.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. No sir! What you want to do is to piece together a little romantic sentimental scene out of my disgust, out of all the reasons, each more cruel and viler than the other, why I am what I am. He is to ask me why I'm in mourning; and I'm to answer with tears in my eyes, that it is just two months since papa died. No sir, no! He's got to say to me; as he did say: "Well, let's take off this little dress at once." And I; with my two months' mourning in my heart, went there behind that screen, and with these fingers tingling with shame....

THE MANAGER (_running his hands through his hair_). For Heaven's sake! What are you saying?

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_crying out excitedly_). The truth! The truth!

THE MANAGER. It may be. I don't deny it, and I can understand all your horror; but you must surely see that you can't have this kind of thing on the stage. It won't go.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Not possible, eh? Very well! I'm much obliged to you--but I'm off!

THE MANAGER. Now be reasonable! Don't lose your temper!

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. I won't stop here! I won't! I can see you've fixed it all up with him in your office. All this talk about what is possible for the stage ... I understand!

He wants to get at his complicated "cerebral drama," to have his famous remorses and torments acted; but I want to act my part, _my part_!

THE MANAGER (_annoyed, shaking his shoulders_). Ah! Just _your_ part! But, if you will pardon me, there are other parts than yours: His (_indicating the Father_) and hers (_indicating the Mother_)! On the stage you can't have a character becoming too prominent and overshadowing all the others. The thing is to pack them all into a neat little framework and then act what is actable. I am aware of the fact that everyone has his own interior life which he wants very much to put forward. But the difficulty lies in this fact: to set out just so much as is necessary for the stage, taking the other characters into consideration, and at the same time hint at the unrevealed interior life of each. I am willing to admit, my dear young lady, that from your point of view it would be a fine idea if each character could tell the public all his troubles in a nice monologue or a regular one hour lecture (_good humoredly_). You must restrain yourself, my dear, and in your own interest, too; because this fury of yours, this exaggerated disgust you show, may make a bad impression, you know. After you have confessed to me that there were others before him at Madame Pace's and more than once....

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_bowing her head, impressed_). It's true.

But remember those others mean him for me all the same.

THE MANAGER (_not understanding_). What? The others? What do you mean?

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. For one who has gone wrong, sir, he who was responsible for the first fault is responsible for all that follow. He is responsible for my faults, was, even before I was born. Look at him, and see if it isn't true!

THE MANAGER. Well, well! And does the weight of so much responsibility seem nothing to you? Give him a chance to act it, to get it over!

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. How? How can he act all his "n.o.ble remorses" all his "moral torments," if you want to spare him the horror of being discovered one day--after he had asked her what he did ask her--in the arms of her, that already fallen woman, that child, sir, that child he used to watch come out of school? (_She is moved_).

(THE MOTHER _at this point is overcome with emotion, and breaks out into a fit of crying. All are touched. A long pause_).

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_as soon as the Mother becomes a little quieter, adds resolutely and gravely_). At present, we are unknown to the public. Tomorrow, you will act us as you wish, treating us in your own manner. But do you really want to see drama, do you want to see it flash out as it really did?