The Double Widowing | Page 6

went to the Wells to lighten his skin.
Mrs. MacPherson Don't mock him before her, mam. He went to the
waters to improve his health. And to please me, for he loves me, and I
am determined that he be healthy.
Countess I am delighted to see you in such good humor.
Mrs. MacPherson I am happy because my husband has returned. And
also, because your servant has been slipping us a little wine--discreetly.
Women from my country are born for wine, like the French are born
for love. Each to his custom and often enough the one does not impede
the other.
Maid Here is Mr. MacPherson, Madame. You are going to hear an
interesting speech, because he's erudite, your Highlander.
MacPherson (entering) Madame, Madame.
Countess Don't waste your time bowing. Tell me--is Bramble dead?
MacPherson I know all about these matters--in extreme exactitude.
Countess All these things consist in one word--he's dead, or he isn't.
MacPherson It is necessary to explain all these things to you by
direction. For, when I left you, you directed that I should bring you a
report of all the circumstances of our trip in writing.
Countess Very well. What I want to know is written in your journal.
MacPherson My journal consists of words without paper. For I have
written in my mind--in three little chapters--our departure, our trip, our
return.
Countess Here's a well-ordered explanation.
MacPherson With regard to the first, Mr. Bramble was very ridiculous,
very ridiculous. He said he'd been married to his wife for ten years
without children, and it was to cure sterility that he was going to the
waters. So much for what he said as soon as he arrived.
Countess If this story wasn't so funny, it would make me very
impatient.
MacPherson In the second chapter, your bailiff was also very ridiculous.
For I like wine, and he went to the waters to drink water, and in this
water, he found, in place of virility--illness-so much illness, that he is
dying.
Countess Now, we're at the point. Bramble thought he was dying and is
not dead. Listen, you must tell his wife that when her husband was
dying--he died.

MacPherson Ha, ha, ha. When one finds the widow of a living man,
we'll have a good laugh.
Countess When is he coming? Where did you leave him?
MacPherson I left him yesterday, about thirty leagues from here, when
his coach broke down. Go on ahead, he said, for I'm likely to be sick
here until tomorrow, and my coach won't be ready till Monday. I will
come on Tuesday.
(Exit MacPherson and Mrs. MacPherson.)
Countess According to that, he won't be here until tomorrow--and
cannot disturb our project today. So, Miss, tell my dancing women to
prepare for the wedding I intend to celebrate today.
Maid We will do all our best to please you, and though I sing poorly, I
can sing a sad song about being a widow.
Countess It's Tuneless who is getting everything ready. He wants to be
a music master, my Butler.
Maid He's an original. Look here. I believe he's composing--for he's
walking to the beat. Hold, hold, Madame, the spirit torments him--he's
possessed by the demon of music.
Countess Shh! He doesn't see us. Let's give him the pleasure--
Tuneless (entering) Nothing's going right, dammit. La, la, la, la. I can
never find a completely new idea. (slowly) La, la, la, la, la--no, that
opening's in Lully. La, la, la, la, la, la--Lully again. La, la, la, la--Lully
again. That Lully everywhere--everywhere I turn. I am very unfortunate
not to have been born before him. Everything I have in my head is
useless because they say I plagiarize him. La, la, la, la, la--good there.
La, la, la, la, la. Admirable. La, la. Marvelous. And the second,
lower--la, la, la, low tone, what invention. La, la, la, la, la, la, la,
la--what reflections of genius. The notes are coming to me--write them
down quickly. (with one knee on the ground, he writes on some paper
on the other knee, until, perceiving the Countess, he takes off his hat in
this position and continues to write) (singing) Pardon me, Madame, oh
pardon, Madame, da, de, da, de da, Madame. I note the last tone. (rising
and bowing to the Countess) It's a duo for an aria about widowhood, as
you have commanded. (giving her a paper. Wait, Madame--you know
how to sing without a book.
Countess I see Mrs. Bramble in the gallery. I must speak with our
widow.

Tuneless Let us sing together, and that will serve as a rehearsal.
(Exit Countess.)
Tuneless (to Maid) Now you will represent the widow. Carefully
imitate the affliction of widows. Cry with your eyes down in your chin.
Lucy (entering) Retire. My