Three Plays Part 12

THE MANAGER. Of course! That's just what I do want, so I can use as much of it as is possible.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Well then, ask that Mother there to leave us.

THE MOTHER (_changing her low plaint into a sharp cry_). No!

No! Don't permit it, sir, don't permit it!

THE MANAGER. But it's only to try it.

THE MOTHER. I can't bear it. I can't.

THE MANAGER. But since it has happened already ... I don't understand!

THE MOTHER. It's taking place now. It happens all the time.

My torment isn't a pretended one. I live and feel every minute of my torture. Those two children there--have you heard them speak? They can't speak any more. They cling to me to keep my torment actual and vivid for me. But for themselves, they do not exist, they aren't any more. And she (_indicating Step-Daughter_) has run away, she has left me, and is lost. If I now see her here before me, it is only to renew for me the tortures I have suffered for her too.

THE FATHER. The eternal moment! She (_indicating the Step-Daughter_) is here to catch me, fix me, and hold me eternally in the stocks for that one fleeting and shameful moment of my life. She can't give it up! And you sir, cannot either fairly spare me it.

THE MANAGER. I never said I didn't want to act it. It will form, as a matter of fact, the nucleus of the whole first act right up to her surprise (_indicates the Mother_).

THE FATHER. Just so! This is my punishment: the pa.s.sion in all of us that must culminate in her final cry.

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. I can hear it still in my ears. It's driven me mad, that cry!--You can put me on as you like; it doesn't matter. Fully dressed, if you like--provided I have at least the arm bare; because, standing like this (_she goes close to the Father and leans her head on his breast_) with my head so, and my arms round his neck, I saw a vein pulsing in my arm here; and then, as if that live vein had awakened disgust in me, I closed my eyes like this, and let my head sink on his breast. (_Turning to the Mother_). Cry out mother! Cry out! (_Buries head in Fathers breast, and with her shoulders raised as if to prevent her hearing the cry, adds in tones of intense emotion_): Cry out as you did then!

THE MOTHER (_coming forward to separate them_). No! My daughter, my daughter! (_And after having pulled her away from him_): You brute! you brute! She is my daughter! Don't you see she's my daughter?

THE MANAGER (_walking backwards towards footlights_). Fine!

fine! d.a.m.ned good! And then, of course--curtain!

THE FATHER (_going towards him excitedly_). Yes, of course, because that's the way it really happened.

THE MANAGER (_convinced and pleased_). Oh, yes, no doubt about it. Curtain here, curtain!

(_At the reiterated cry of_ THE MANAGER, THE MACHINIST _lets the curtain down, leaving_ THE MANAGER _and_ THE FATHER _in front of it before the footlights_).

THE MANAGER. The darned idiot! I said "curtain" to show the act should end there, and he goes and lets it down in earnest (_to the Father, while he pulls the curtain back to go on to the stage again_). Yes, yes, it's all right. Effect certain! That's the right ending. I'll guarantee the first act at any rate.

ACT III.

_When the curtain goes up again, it is seen that the stage hands have shifted the bit of scenery used in the last part, and have rigged up instead at the back of the stage a drop, with some trees, and one or two wings. A portion of a fountain basin is visible. The Mother is sitting on the Right with the two children by her side. The Son is on the same side, but away from the others. He seems bored, angry, and full of shame. The Father and The Step-Daughter are also seated towards the Right front. On the other side (Left) are the actors, much in the positions they occupied before the curtain was lowered. Only the Manager is standing up in the middle of the stage, with his hand closed over his mouth in the act of meditating._

THE MANAGER (_shaking his shoulders after a brief pause_).

Ah yes: the second act! Leave it to me, leave it all to me as we arranged, and you'll see! It'll go fine!

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Our entry into his house (_indicates Father_) in spite of him (_indicates the Son_)....

THE MANAGER (_out of patience_). Leave it to me, I tell you!

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Do let it be clear, at any rate, that it is in spite of my wishes.

THE MOTHER (_from her corner, shaking her head_). For all the good that's come of it....

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_turning towards her quickly_). It doesn't matter. The more harm done us, the more remorse for him.

THE MANAGER (_impatiently_). I understand! Good Heavens! I understand! I'm taking it into account.

THE MOTHER (_supplicatingly_). I beg you, sir, to let it appear quite plain that for conscience sake I did try in every way....

THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_interrupting indignantly and continuing for the Mother_) ... to pacify me, to dissuade me from spiting him. (_To Manager_). Do as she wants: satisfy her, because it is true! I enjoy it immensely. Anyhow, as you can see, the meeker she is, the more she tries to get at his heart, the more distant and aloof does he become.

THE MANAGER. Are we going to begin this second act or not?

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. I'm not going to talk any more now. But I must tell you this: you can't have the whole action take place in the garden, as you suggest. It isn't possible!

THE MANAGER. Why not?

THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Because he (_indicates the Son again_) is always shut up alone in his room. And then there's all the part of that poor dazed-looking boy there which takes place indoors.

THE MANAGER. Maybe! On the other hand, you will understand--we can't change scenes three or four times in one act.

THE LEADING MAN. They used to once.

THE MANAGER. Yes, when the public was up to the level of that child there.

THE LEADING LADY. It makes the illusion easier.

THE FATHER (_irritated_). The illusion! For Heaven's sake, don't say illusion. Please don't use that word, which is particularly painful for us.

THE MANAGER (_astounded_). And why, if you please?

THE FATHER. It's painful, cruel, really cruel; and you ought to understand that.

THE MANAGER. But why? What ought we to say then? The illusion, I tell you, sir, which we've got to create for the audience....

THE LEADING MAN. With our acting.

THE MANAGER. The illusion of a reality.

THE FATHER. I understand; but you, perhaps, do not understand us. Forgive me! You see ... here for you and your actors, the thing is only--and rightly so ... a kind of game....

THE LEADING LADY (_interrupting indignantly_). A game! We're not children here, if you please! We are serious actors.

THE FATHER. I don't deny it. What I mean is the game, or play, of your art, which has to give, as the gentleman says, a perfect illusion of reality.

THE MANAGER. Precisely--!