Clair de Lune | Page 8

a raised dais. Courtiers group themselves around
her. Most of the ladies have seats. Many of the gentlemen sit at their
feet.]
JOSEPHINE
[Listlessly fluttering her fan; she is on the left of the QUEEN and near
the audience.]
How tedious! For what are they delaying?
PRINCE [standing over her]
We are scarcely seated.
JOSEPHINE
Waiting is so tedious. It puts me in a bad humour, and I lose my
enthusiasm.
PRINCE
Before you have quite found it, eh?
[A gong sounds. Two stalwart men move the cart to left centre of stage;
with a click the sides of the carriage are flung open and a stage about
twelve feet wide and four feet above the ground appears. In the back is
a green curtain, ornamented with constellations. Suddenly a grotesque
figure completely hooded and masked, attended by two small drummer
boys, makes its appearance. The figure squats upon the floor in direct

centre of stage. The drummers seat themselves beside it and all three
begin to play; the attendants upon their drums, the centre figure upon a
flute. No human part of him can be seen, save his hands which are
remarkably beautiful, sensitive and pallid. He moves them with
extraordinary grace. He plays upon his flute an air from India.
Suddenly upon the stage above him appears a Hindu girl. She executes
a sinuous pantomimic dance of youth and desire. The figure playing
upon the flute gradually turns his back to the audience and facing the
dancer continues to play. Finally the dancer, noticing her admirer,
commences to dance for him alone. The music becomes more
breathless; the hooded figure plays a screaming tone upon his flute.
Immediately a third slave, attired as a drummer, rushes out and
catches his flute from the green masque, who jumps upon the stage, and
seizing the dancer, savagely--gracefully, about her slim waist, dances
with her, at once tenderly and primitively.]
QUEEN
What agility and strength the man has got. He has made me catch my
breath already, which is far better than to laugh.
JOSEPHINE
He dances like a demon over burning altars.
PRINCE
What was that, Josephine?
JOSEPHINE
Don't distract my attention.
PRINCE [laughing]
Attention? Attention? Why, Josephine, I never knew that gift was
among your talents!
JOSEPHINE

Sh! Sh!
[During the dance, the Hindu girl becomes more and more enamoured
of her partner, who eludes and attacks her in a perfect frenzy of grace
and passion. Finally she tries to unmask him or to pull off his cloak,
without success. A chime is heard. The drummers play a strange,
sinister march. An old man enters--the slave owner. He sees his slave
in the arms of one whom she obviously loves, and rushes at the masked
figure with his sword. At this the green mask flings the girl away from
him, tears off his mask, throws open his coat and stands revealed
before the slave owner, but with his back to the audience. The man is
about to let fall his sword when he looks upon what he is about to kill.
Gradually his jaw drops with amazement and he lets out a terrible yell
of laughter. The slave girl who has stood watching him, now creeps
round to see what is causing him so much mirth, and gazing up
suddenly into the face of her partner utters a shriek of horror and runs
from the stage. The slave owner follows her, his sides shaking with
laughter. The figure stands rigidly transfixed, his back still to the
audience.]
JOSEPHINE [leaning forward eagerly]
What can he be like! I wish he would turn round.
PRINCE
You seem interested, Josephine. Do these wretched mummers really ...
[But JOSEPHINE is leaning forward intently for the music has begun
again. This time the figure is doing a strange dance of loneliness and
search for his departed partner, his mask lies upon the ground, but he
shields himself with his cloak. Occasionally in the wildness of his dance
it slips a little, permitting glimpses of parts of his face.]
QUEEN [suddenly in a tone of fright]
What is it the man has upon his face? Is it a great scar?

JOSEPHINE
No! No! It is his mouth that is like that.
[Her excitement is obviously gathering to an almost unbearable point
as the dance proceeds. In a low voice:]
Oh, he is deformed, he is terribly deformed, his shoulders are not
abreast of one another. Or is it some devil's head squatting upon his
body of an angel.
A VOICE
No, it is his legs; they are bent in opposite directions.
A VOICE
No wonder the lady will not come back to him!
[GWYMPLANE'S dance seems to be reaching a climax; he has nosed
about the floor like a dog; he has tried to leap over the roof