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THE FATHER. A mirror.
THE STEP-DAUGHTER. And the screen! We must have a screen.
Otherwise how can I manage?
PROPERTY MAN. That's all right, Miss. We've got any amount of them.
THE MANAGER (_to the Step-Daughter_). We want some clothes pegs too, don't we?
THE STEP-DAUGHTER. Yes, several, several!
THE MANAGER. See how many we've got and bring them all.
PROPERTY MAN. All right!
(THE PROPERTY MAN _hurries off to obey his orders. While he is putting the things in their places, the_ MANAGER _talks to the_ PROMPTER _and then with the Characters and the actors_).
THE MANAGER (_to Prompter_). Take your seat. Look here: this is the outline of the scenes, act by act (_hands him some sheets of paper_). And now I'm going to ask you to do something out of the ordinary.
PROMPTER. Take it down in shorthand?
THE MANAGER (_pleasantly surprised_). Exactly! Can you do shorthand?
PROMPTER. Yes, a little.
MANAGER. Good! (_Turning to a stage hand_): Go and get some paper from my office, plenty, as much as you can find.
(_The stage hand goes off, and soon returns with a handful of paper which he gives to the Prompter_).
THE MANAGER (_To Prompter_). You follow the scenes as we play them, and try and get the points down, at any rate the most important ones. (_Then addressing the actors_): Clear the stage, ladies and gentlemen! Come over here (_pointing to the Left_) and listen attentively.
LEADING LADY. But, excuse me, we....
THE MANAGER (_guessing her thought_). Don't worry! You won't have to improvise.
LEADING MAN. What have we to do then?
THE MANAGER. Nothing. For the moment you just watch and listen. Everybody will get his part written out afterwards.
At present we're going to try the thing as best we can.
They're going to act now.
THE FATHER (_as if fallen from the clouds into the confusion of the stage_). We? What do you mean, if you please, by a rehearsal?
THE MANAGER. A rehearsal for them (_points to the actors_).
THE FATHER. But since we are the characters....
THE MANAGER. All right: "characters" then, if you insist on calling yourselves such. But here, my dear sir, the characters don't act. Here the actors do the acting. The characters are there, in the "book" (_pointing towards Prompter's box_)--when there is a "book"!
THE FATHER. I won't contradict you; but excuse me, the actors aren't the characters. They want to be, they pretend to be, don't they? Now if these gentlemen here are fortunate enough to have us alive before them....
THE MANAGER. Oh this is grand! You want to come before the public yourselves then?
THE FATHER. As we are....
THE MANAGER. I can a.s.sure you it would be a magnificent spectacle!
LEADING MAN. What's the use of us here anyway then?
THE MANAGER. You're not going to pretend that you can act?
It makes me laugh! (_The actors laugh_). There, you see, they are laughing at the notion. But, by the way, I must cast the parts. That won't be difficult. They cast themselves. (_To the Second Lady Lead_): You play the Mother. (_To the Father_): We must find her a name.
THE FATHER. Amalia, sir.
THE MANAGER. But that is the real name of your wife. We don't want to call her by her real name.
THE FATHER. Why ever not, if it is her name? Still, perhaps, if that lady must.... (_makes a slight motion of the hand to indicate the Second Lady Lead_). I see this woman here (_means the Mother_) as Amalia. But do as you like (_gets more and more confused_). I don't know what to say to you.
Already, I begin to hear my own words ring false, as if they had another sound....
THE MANAGER. Don't you worry about it. It'll be our job to find the right tones. And as for her name, if you want her Amalia, Amalia it shall be; and if you don't like it, we'll find another! For the moment though, we'll call the characters in this way: (_to Juvenile Lead_) You are the Son; (_to the Leading Lady_) You naturally are the Step-Daughter.
THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_excitedly_). What? what? I, that woman there? (_Bursts out laughing_).
THE MANAGER (_angry_). What is there to laugh at?
LEADING LADY (_indignant_). n.o.body has ever dared to laugh at me. I insist on being treated with respect; otherwise I go away.
THE STEP-DAUGHTER. No, no, excuse me ... I am not laughing at you....
THE MANAGER (_to Step-Daughter_). You ought to feel honoured to be played by....
LEADING LADY (_at once, contemptuously_). "That woman there"....
THE STEP-DAUGHTER. But I wasn't speaking of you, you know. I was speaking of myself--whom I can't see at all in you! That is all. I don't know ... but ... you ... aren't in the least like me....
THE FATHER. True. Here's the point. Look here, sir, our temperaments, our souls....
THE MANAGER. Temperament, soul, be hanged! Do you suppose the spirit of the piece is in you? Nothing of the kind!
THE FATHER. What, haven't we our own temperaments, our own souls?
THE MANAGER. Not at all. Your soul or whatever you like to call it takes shape here. The actors give body and form to it, voice and gesture. And my actors--I may tell you--have given expression to much more lofty material than this little drama of yours, which may or may not hold up on the stage. But if it does, the merit of it, believe me, will be due to my actors.
THE FATHER. I don't dare contradict you, sir; but, believe me, it is a terrible suffering for us who are as we are, with these bodies of ours, these features to see....
THE MANAGER (_cutting him short and out of patience_). Good heavens! The make-up will remedy all that, man, the make-up....
THE FATHER. Maybe. But the voice, the gestures....
