The Romancers | Page 8

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. I'll warrant they are cousins, too!
SYLVETTE. [Bowing] I am about to marry my cousin!
PERCINET. My cousin!
SYLVETTE. How nice and respectable!
PERCINET. Classic!
SYLVETTE. Of course, I had dreamed of a marriage more--but it is comforting to know that our love coincides with our--duty!
PERCINET. And the material interests of our fathers.
SYLVETTE. An excellent marriage, in short: a marriage of convenience! And our poor idyl!
PERCINET. Gone.
SYLVETTE. Gone! So I'm the good little girl of the family!
PERCINET. And I the obedient little son! But it was only as Romeo that I appealed to you!
SYLVETTE. Well, you are no longer that!
PERCINET. And do you think you are Juliet?
SYLVETTE. Now you're bitter.
PERCINET. And you cynical.
SYLVETTE. If you were ridiculous, is it my fault?
PERCINET. I at least had a partner!
SYLVETTE. I, too! Poor Blue Bird, you are beautifully plucked!
PERCINET. [Bitterly] A pre-arranged abduction!
SYLVETTE. Farce, all of it!
PERCINET. And I your savior! All our poetry was bought and paid for. Our beautiful bubble is now a tiny fleck of soap. Farewell, Shakespearean lovers--we have nothing in common with you!
SYLVETTE. Nothing!
PERCINET. In place of a divine drama, we played an infamous parody.
SYLVETTE. Our nightingale was a sparrow!
PERCINET. And the immortal wall a punch-and-judy theater. We were the puppets, worked by our fathers.
SYLVETTE. But how much more ridiculous we should be if we loved each other less than we do!
PERCINET. We must now love more than ever.
SYLVETTE. But we do--we adore--
PERCINET. The word is not a bit too strong.
SYLVETTE. Love can console us. Can it not, my treasure?
PERCINET. Certainly, my jewel.
SYLVETTE. Good-bye then, my dearest.
PERCINET. Good-bye, my darling.
SYLVETTE. I shall dream of you, my heart.
PERCINET. And I of you.
SYLVETTE. Good-night. [She goes out.]
PERCINET. So this is how I have been treated!-- But who is this? See the long moustaches--I don't know him--
[STRAFOREL enters and walks majestically toward PERCINET.]
STRAFOREL. [With a profound bow] I have come to collect a small bill.
PERCINET. Are you an upholsterer?
STRAFOREL. Run along, young man, and tell your papa I am waiting for him.
PERCINET. What is your name?
STRAFOREL. My name is Straforel.
PERCINET. [With a start] He?! This is too much!
STRAFOREL. [Smiling] Then you know, young man?
PERCINET. [Throwing the bill in STRAFOREL's face] Wretch! It was you!
STRAFOREL. It was, Per Bacco!
PERCINET. I have you at last.
STRAFOREL. The people you kill, you see, are in the best of health.
PERCINET. [Drawing his sword and making a pass at STRAFOREL] You will see!
STRAFOREL. [Parrying with his arm, like a fencing-master giving a lesson] Hand high! Foot out! Monsieur, at