The Romancers | Page 9

your age, you should know better than that! [He takes the sword from PERCINET with his naked hand, and returns it as he bows.] What, are you stopping your fencing-lesson so soon?
PERCINET. [Exasperated, as he takes back the sword] I'm going away. Here I am treated like a child. I shall have my revenge. I am going to seek my romance--true romance: love-affairs, duels, and--Ah, Don Juan, I will scandalize your ghost! I will elope with actresses! [He dashes out, brandishing his sword.]
STRAFOREL. Very well, but who is going to pay me? [Looking in the distance] Stop there! Here's someone else.
[Enter BERGAMIN and PASQUINOT, their hair and clothes ruffled, as if they had been fighting.]
PASQUINOT. [Readjusting his clothes and holding BERGAMIN's wig] Here's your wig!
BERGAMIN. And here's yours!
PASQUINOT. After this, you can't imagine I'll--?
BERGAMIN. I would no more live with you now than--
[Enter SYLVETTE.]
PASQUINOT. My daughter!--Say nothing about this!
SYLVETTE. [Throwing her arms about her father's neck] Papa, I can't marry Percinet!
[Enter the NOTARY and four WITNESSES.]
BERGAMIN. The witnesses! The devil!
WITNESSES. What--?
STRAFOREL. [In the midst of the tumult] My bill! Who is going to pay me? Ninety pistoles!
[Enter the GUESTS and three FIDDLERS, who play.]
BERGAMIN. What's all this? The guests? Music?
[The FIDDLERS continue their minuet.]
STRAFOREL. [To BERGAMIN] Well?
BERGAMIN. See Pasquinot.
STRAFOREL. [Reading] "For the purposes of bringing about a marriage--"
BERGAMIN. Well, there is to be no marriage! Therefore I owe you nothing!
[Enter BLAISE.]
STRAFOREL. [To PASQUINOT] But, Monsieur--
PASQUINOT. What? Pay you now that it is broken off!
BERGAMIN. [To whom BLAISE has just whispered] My son--run away?
SYLVETTE. Run away?
STRAFOREL. Well! Well!
BERGAMIN. Quick, follow him! [He runs out, followed by the NOTARY and the WITNESSES.]
SYLVETTE. Gone!
STRAFOREL. [Coming down-stage] Why can't I straighten all this out?
SYLVETTE. This is too much! [She goes out, followed by PASQUINOT.]
STRAFOREL. Straforel, my son, if you want your ninety pistoles, you must patch up this marriage! [He goes out. The three FIDDLERS, left alone, continue their minuet, as the curtain falls.]
Curtain
* * * * *
ACT III
SCENE: The scene is the same except that the wall is being rebuilt. Bricks and sacks of plaster lie about.
As the curtain rises, the MASON is seen at work with his trowel. His back is turned to the audience. BERGAMIN and PASQUINOT, each on his own side of the wall, watch the progress of the work.
The MASON. [Singing at his work] Tra la la--
BERGAMIN. These masons are so slow!
PASQUINOT. Good!
BERGAMIN. How he slaps the mortar!
PASQUINOT. There goes another brick!
[The MASON sings a number of trills.]
PASQUINOT. Sings well, but works very slowly! By to-morrow the wall will be at least two feet high!
BERGAMIN. I'm impatient to see it higher!
PASQUINOT. What is that you say, Monsieur?
BERGAMIN. I was not addressing you. [A pause.] What do you do evenings after dinner?
PASQUINOT. Nothing--and you?
BERGAMIN. Nothing. [Another pause. They bow and walk about again.]
PASQUINOT. [Stopping] Any news from your son?
BERGAMIN. No--he is still away.
PASQUINOT. He will return soon: his money will surely give out.
BERGAMIN. Thank you. [They bow again, and walk.]
PASQUINOT. Now that the wall is being built again, Monsieur, I should be glad to see you from time to time.
BERGAMIN. Thank you. Perhaps I shall come. [They bow.]
PASQUINOT. Tell me, now, will you play piquet?
BERGAMIN. I beg your pardon--I don't know--
PASQUINOT. I invite you!
BERGAMIN. To tell the truth, I prefer besigue--
PASQUINOT. Then come at once.
BERGAMIN. [Following PASQUINOT, who goes out] You owe me ten sous from the last time. [Turning round] Work hard, mason!
The MASON. Tra la la la la!
PASQUINOT. Beautiful voice! [They disappear.]
[When they are gone, the MASON turns round, and takes off his hat: he is STRAFOREL.]
STRAFOREL. Now for the work of reconstruction! [He sits down on the row or two of bricks.] The young man is still off on his quest for adventure and romance. Life must be giving him a splendid bath of disillusion. I can see him as he returns, his tail between his legs. Now I am working on Sylvette--she, too, will soon be cured. [He takes a letter from his pocket and puts it in the hollow of a tree-trunk. SYLVETTE appears at the back.] It's she! Now to work!
SYLVETTE. [Looking anxiously about] Not a soul. [She lays her muslin scarf on the bench to the left.] Will the letter be there to-day as usual? [She goes toward the tree.] Every day some gallant has left one for me. [She thrusts her hand into the hollow.] Ah, here is my mail! [She takes the letter, opens it and reads.] "Sylvette, heart of marble, this is the last letter you will find in this tree. Why have you not answered me?" Ah, what style! "The love that gnaws at my vitals!" Monsieur Percinet has gone forth into the great world, and he is right. I shall do as he has done. How can I possibly stay here and die of ennui? Now let him