The Romancers | Page 8

I--? What are you saying?
BERGAMIN. That will do! It is high time you knew the truth. I tell you,
the victory was on the side of the old men!
SYLVETTE. But--
PASQUINOT. In old plays the father was always the dupe. Nowadays,
we do the duping! Would either of you have loved the other if you had
been told to do so? No.
SYLVETTE. Then perhaps you suspected--?

PASQUINOT. Of course we did.
SYLVETTE. Our meetings?
BERGAMIN. I heard you every time!
SYLVETTE. But the benches?
PASQUINOT. We put them there on purpose.
SYLVETTE. The duel?
BERGAMIN. A trick--prepared beforehand.
SYLVETTE. The bravadoes?
PASQUINOT. Actors!
SYLVETTE. Then my abduction--? It was all a joke!
BERGAMIN. [Searching in his pocket] Joke? Here's the bill!
SYLVETTE. [Snatching the bill from him] Give it to me! [She reads]
"Straforel, Confidential affairs: One abduction, setting and scenery--for
purposes of bringing about a marriage--" Oh! "Eight assistants at five
francs a head; eight masks--"
BERGAMIN. [To PASQUINOT] I think we told her too soon!
SYLVETTE. [Continuing] "One sedan-chair, with porters; latest style,
with red trimmings--" [Laughing, she throws the bill on the table.]
PASQUINOT. Then she isn't angry?
SYLVETTE. [Graciously] A charming idea! But, truly, Monsieur
Bergamin, do you think I love Percinet merely because of your trick?
PASQUINOT. She takes it very well.

BERGAMIN. [To SYLVETTE] You're not offended?
PASQUINOT. Are you going to tell Percinet?
SYLVETTE. Oh, no. Men are so stupid!
BERGAMIN. Very sensible. But I had an idea-- [Taking out his watch]
Now we must see about the contract. [Offering his hand to SYLVETTE]
We are still good friends?
SYLVETTE. Of course!
BERGAMIN. [Turning about once more before he goes out] You don't
blame me, do you?
SYLVETTE. [Sweetly] Not in the least! [BERGAMIN and
PASQUINOT go out. As they leave, SYLVETTE burst into a rage.]
How I hate that Monsieur Bergamin!
[Enter PERCINET.]
PERCINET. Still here? Ah, I see; you did not want to leave this sacred
spot--
SYLVETTE. [Sitting on the bench to the left] Outrageous!
PERCINET. There is where you saw me, like Amadis, put to flight
thirty of the ruffians!
SYLVETTE. No: ten!
PERCINET. [Going to her] Dearest, what is the matter? Are you
troubled? Your eyes are not so bright as they were. I know! This
marvelous place makes you sad sometimes. Are you sad because our
balcony--our Verona balcony--is destroyed?
SYLVETTE. [Impatiently] Oh, dear!
PERCINET. But does not the wall still exist in our memories? That

wall which cradled our love--
SYLVETTE. [Aside:] Will he never end!
PERCINET. You remember not long ago, you said our story should be
put into a poem?
SYLVETTE. Yes?
PERCINET. Well, I have occasionally written verses.
SYLVETTE. Are you going to write our story?
PERCINET. Listen to this; I thought it out when I was walking. "The
Fathers who are Mortal Enemies." First canto--
SYLVETTE. Oh!
PERCINET. [Ready to declaim] Er--
SYLVETTE. Oh!
PERCINET. What is the matter?
SYLVETTE. I imagine I am too happy--I'm nervous--I don't feel well.
[She bursts into tears.] I'll be well in a moment. Let me be! [She turns
her back and hides her face in a handkerchief.]
PERCINET. [Surprised] I'll leave you for a moment. [Aside] On a day
like this, it's only too natural-- [He goes to the right, sees the bill on the
table, takes a pencil from his pocket, and sits down.] I'll just jot down
those lines. [He picks up the bill, and starts to write; notices the writing
and reads aloud] "I, Straforel, having pretended to be killed by a
sword-thrust from a foolish young blade, hereby render account for torn
clothes and wounded pride: forty francs." [Smiling] What is it? [He
continues reading to himself, and his smile dies away.]
SYLVETTE. [Wiping her eyes] He would fall from the clouds if he
knew! I must be careful!

PERCINET. [Rising] Well, well, well!
SYLVETTE. [Going toward him] What is it?
PERCINET. [Hiding the bill] Nothing. [Aside] Now I see why the
body was never found!
SYLVETTE. [Turning around to show PERCINET her dress] You've
said nothing about my dress to-day?
PERCINET. [Preoccupied] Blue is not becoming. I always prefer you
in pink.
SYLVETTE. [Aside] What is the matter? Can he have found out? [She
looks toward the table.] The bill? [She runs to the table.]
PERCINET. What are you looking for?
SYLVETTE. Nothing.--Now let me hear your poem.
PERCINET. No.
SYLVETTE. Please!
PERCINET. No.
SYLVETTE. But I want to hear it.
PERCINET. The verses are not good.
SYLVETTE. Oh! [Aside] I think he knows!
PERCINET. [Aside] I think she knows!
BOTH. [Each to the other] You know!? [After a pause, they laugh.] Ha,
ha, ha!
PERCINET. Isn't it funny?

SYLVETTTE. Very.
PERCINET. We were made to play a farce--our fathers were the best of
friends all the time!
SYLVETTE. Good neighbors.
PERCINET.