For Love of the King | Page 3

puts aside all who would in any way interfere.
The girl precedes him, going from the Pagoda towards the night. When
she reaches the great staircase, she beckons, Oriental fashion, with
downward hand. The scene should, in grouping and colour, make for
rare beauty.

SCENE III
A humble dhunni-thatched hut, set amidst the whispering grandeur of
the jungle, with its mighty trees, its trackless paths, its indescribable
silence. The curtain discovers MAH PHRU and THE KING, who
expresses his amazement at the loneliness and the poverty of her lot.
She explains that poverty is not what frightens her, but the enmity of
those who live yonder, and who make it almost impossible for her to
sell her cucumbers or her pineapples. THE KING'S gaze never leaves
the face or figure of the girl.
He declares that he will protect her--that
he will build her a home here in the shadow of the loneliness around
them. He has two years of an unfettered freedom--for those years he
can command his life. He loves her, he desires her--they will find a
Paradise together. The girl trembles with joy--with fear--with surprise.
"And after two years?" she asks. "Death," he answers.

ACT II

SCENE I
The jungle once more. Time: noonday. In place of the hut is a building,
half Burmese, half Italian villa, of white Chunam, with curled roofs
rising on roofs, gilded and adorned with spiral carvings and a myriad
golden and jewel-encrusted bells. On the broad verandahs are thrown
Eastern carpets, rugs, embroideries.
The world is sun-soaked. The surrounding trees stand sentinel-like in
the burning light. Burmese servants squat motionless, smoking on the
broad white steps that lead from the house to the garden. The crows
croak drowsily at intervals. Parrots scream intermittently. The sound of
a guitar playing a Venetian love-song can be heard coming from the
interior. Otherwise life apparently sleeps. Two elderly retainers break
the silence.
"When will the Thakin tire of this?" one asks the other in kindly
contempt.
"The end is already at hand. I read it at dawn to-day."
"Whence will it come?"
"I know not. It is written that one heart will break."
"He will leave her?"
"He will leave her. He will have no choice--who can war with Fate?"
The sun shifts a little; a light breeze kisses the motionless palm
leaves--they quiver gracefully. Attendants appear R. and L. bearing a
great Shamiana (tent), silver poles, carved chairs, foot supports, fruit,
flowers, embroidered fans. Three musicians in semi-Venetian-Burmese
costume follow with their instruments. The tent erected, enter (C.)
MENG BENG and MAH PHRU, followed by two Burmese women
carrying two tiny children in Burmese fashion on their hips.
The servants retire to a distance. MENG BENG and MAH PHRU
seat

themselves on carven chairs; the children are placed at their feet and
given coloured glass balls to play with. MENG BENG and MAH
PHRU gaze at them with deep affection and then at each other.
The musicians play light, zephyr-like airs. MENG BENG and MAH
PHRU talk together. MENG BENG smokes a cigar, MAH PHRU has
one of the big yellow cheroots affected by Burmese women to-day.
"It wants but two days to the two years," he tells her sadly.
"And you are happy?"
"As a god."
She smiles radiantly. She suspects nothing. She is more beautiful than
before. Her dress is of the richest Mandalay silks. She wears big
nadoungs of rubies in her ears.
Presently MENG BENG arranges a set of ivory chessmen on a low
table between them. The sun sinks slowly. The sound of approaching
wheels is heard.
Enter (C.) U. RAI GYAN THOO, preceded by two servants. MENG
BENG looks up in surprise--in alarm. He rises, etc., and goes forward.
U. RAI GYAN THOO presents a letter written on palm leaves. MENG
BENG does not open it.
The curtains at the opening of the tent are, Oriental fashion, dropped.
The music ceases.
MENG BENG and the GRAND VIZIER converse apart. The Minister
explains that the Princess of Ceylon's ship and its great convoy have
already been sighted. The Court and city wait in eager expectancy. The
King has worshipped long enough at the Pagoda of Golden
Flowers--his subjects and his bride call to him. U. RAI GYAN THOO
has come to take him to them.
MENG BENG
is terribly distressed.

"You can return one day," the Vizier tells him. "The Pagoda will remain.
I also, once, in years long dead, Lord of the Sea and Moon, worshipped
at a Pagoda."
MENG BENG seeks MAH PHRU to explain that he goes on urgent
affairs, that he will come back to her and to his sons, perhaps before
the waning of the new moon. Their parting is sad with the pensive
sadness of look and gesture peculiar to Eastern people.
MENG