________________________________________________
_ ACT II - SCENE III
[An antechamber communicating with the QUEEN'S bedroom.]
1ST COURTIER.
The air is very heavy this morning.
2D COURTIER.
It is as if the clouds had dropped down out of the sky, entered into this palace, and turned into leaden wheels, running over one, no matter where one hides.
3D COURTIER
You are lucky to be able to talk. I am too depressed even to breathe.
1ST COURTIER.
I am terribly depressed,--but I am still curious. What do you suppose it is all about?
2D COURTIER.
It is all about passions. There have been several conflicting kinds rushing through the atmosphere lately. Naturally the sea is a bit choppy for our painted sort of barks.
[He nods about him rather contemptuously.]
3D COURTIER
You can at least talk no matter what happens.
1ST COURTIER.
Well, we don't seem any nearer knowing the truth.
[Enter two ladies in a state of great excitement.]
1ST LADY.
What could you have possibly expected? I suppose the marriage is off. Josephine could never be interested in anything, and as for the Prince----
2D LADY.
His self-interest would push anything else out of him.
1ST LADY.
Of course, if it is off, Josephine must have made him appear unbecoming and she probably brought all the candles in the palace to help illuminate Josephine's mistake. Phew! they are all quite dreadful.
1ST COURTIER.
Sh! It is unwise to be so indiscreet, even in a crisis. Remember, we have to face each other, and all of these others every day for years. Perhaps the memory of your candour will make you feel a little ridiculous later.
[Hand bell tinkles.]
1ST LADY.
The Queen's bell.
[She goes to a door on right and timidly knocks.]
THE QUEEN.'S VOICE
[off stage]
Is the Duchess attending me yet?
1ST LADY.
No, Majesty.
QUEEN.
Have me informed immediately upon her arrival. Until then, I wish you would discuss your absorbing trifles in a lower tone. My room is exactly like a sounding board for your idle conversation. However, I tell you all this with a recurring regularity that none of the rest of my life seems to possess.
1ST LADY.
Your Majesty is obeyed, and our most humble apologies to your Majesty.
[She closes the door softly.]
QUEEN.
You haven't shut the door. You haven't shut it tight. Oh, for Heaven's sake, slam it!
[The court lady bangs the door with discretion.]
1ST COURTIER
[whispering]
What a humour she is in! What a woman of moods!
2D COURTIER.
She is illusive. She is like a succession of masks, seen at dawn. In her there always appears a terrible wanness, right upon the heels of a wonderful freshness.
3D COURTIER
I don't wish to seem unpleasant, but I wonder if you could talk a little less or say something.
2D COURTIER
[regarding him witheringly]
I should advise you to go off by yourself and drink some fleur d'oranger and bathe your temples in eau de cologne. Isolation is the only resolution for such ill-humour.
1ST LADY.
Wasn't the Duchess radiant last night? If the marriage is not off I hear she will give a dance, a very small one, to celebrate the first month of her marriage.
[Suddenly she looks rather uncomfortable.]
2D LADY.
Ah, you are wondering, shall we be invited, considering we are the Queen's favourite ladies?
1ST COURTIER.
If everything is all right, when the Duchess comes let us think of something especially charming to say to her. Something that will hint, without asserting, our warmer attachment. [both ladies nod their approval] Sh! Here's Phedro.
PHEDRO.
[Enters, looking for the first time during the play as if a ghost had sucked his blood.]
Is the Queen up?
1ST COURTIER.
She is awake, but wishes to remain undisturbed until the Duchess arrives.
PHEDRO.
Ah, then I shall go and polish my bullet a little more officially.
[They all stare at him in amazement.]
But has not her Grace been tearing the Queen's curtains back at dawn?
1ST LADY.
No, why should she be? What has happened?
[They all crowd around him.]
A LADY.
The air seems sizzling with lightning. Tell us, has the Queen done her some rudeness again? We were just saying how charming she was and thinking of how to express our admiration to her on her arrival.
PHEDRO.
Don't disturb your vocabulary for the sake of the Duchess.
LADIES AND COURTIERS
[in one voice]
Why, what has happened?
PHEDRO.
The Duchess does not exist any longer.
A COURTIER.
She is dead?
2D COURTIER.
Artemis has risen to hunt, but in heaven--
3D COURTIER
Good God!
[he gradually recovers himself]
What a shame the classics are taught. It lends a pulpit to such tedious people.
A LADY.
Oh, we must know, if we are to live. What has happened to the Duchess?
PHEDRO
[grimly--with finality]
She has become declassee.
[Everybody grows gradually stupefied.]
A LADY
[only partially recovering]
You mean that she left the door open? Or mislaid one of her jewels somewhere?
OTHER LADY
[just able to murmur]
You would suggest that she permitted herself to be--discovered?
PHEDRO.
Yes, her apartment was honeycombed with indiscretions.
1ST COURTIER
[sharply]
But what did that matter? Who plucked them out?
PHEDRO.
The Queen.
3D COURTIER
What an appalling mischance!
A LADY.
It is an outrage! People who are lazy enough to be found out are a menace to all of us.
3D COURTIER
A gentleman will hardly know where he is safe when the Duchess of Beaumont can allow such an occurrence.
PHEDRO.
I am afraid I must make my exit from this troubled surface and scrutinize more silent things.
[Pause. Half to himself]
I wonder how a man looks who has slept well among the touch and glide of fishes.
A LADY.
What sort of horrible, wriggly thing are you saying, Phedro?
PHEDRO.
I am tasting my own cooking. It is delicious. However, enough public reverie. When the Duchess comes, announce her to the Queen in whatever manner fits your inclination. Take a good breath of bad manners. It will refresh you all.
[he glances at his watch]
Ah, I shall be late for a certain melancholy addition of facts.
LADIES.
What facts?
PHEDRO.
You shall see. I have only read you the prologue.
[He exits, almost bumping into the DUCHESS, who sweeps by him into the room. The courtiers stand about perfectly limp, enjoying their indifference.]
DUCHESS.
I am present.
[half turning]
Kindly acquaint her Majesty with that fact.
A LADY.
[Starts to courtesy, but suddenly remembers that she doesn't have to.]
Very well, you can wait here.
[The DUCHESS looks at her with incredulous amazement. Suddenly the voice of the QUEEN is heard.]
QUEEN.
Is that the Duchess?
THE LADY.
It is, your Majesty.
QUEEN.
Tell her to wait where she is. I shall be with her presently. Meanwhile you may disperse without formalities.
LADY.
Your Majesty is obeyed.
[She comes back into the room and together with all the rest gazes insolently at the DUCHESS as they file out. The DUCHESS stands, staring frigidly ahead of her and looking supremely beautiful.]
DUCHESS
[clenching her hands slightly]
Fools! They would look better without their heads.
[Enter the QUEEN, looking extremely pale and serious, evidently on the verge of some personal climax.]
QUEEN.
My sister.
DUCHESS.
Your Majesty?
[They bow formally to one another, then remain silent a little.]
QUEEN.
O, what is the sense of trying to carry a meeting like this off? I have been too astonished lately to hold on to my savoir faire. Here are my explosions in a nutshell. The announcement that the clown Gwymplane is the Prince of Vaucluse I am satisfied is authentic. He is in consequence your fiance.
DUCHESS
[losing her wits in a temper]
You must be mad to suppose I should really marry with a mountebank, a deformity, no matter what he has been born.
QUEEN.
Evidently you forget the position you enjoy entails implicit obedience.
[The DUCHESS is about to break out.]
Please don't be banal. I couldn't bear to hear you say that your life was slavery. Your life is merely idiotic. Slaves were sturdy, magnificent people who understood massage, and you look as if a powder puff could blast you off the earth.
DUCHESS.
You hate me!
QUEEN.
But you know that I knew you knew that.
DUCHESS.
When Charles comes, or perhaps you don't permit him to come--possibly it would annoy you to see the anguish he will be in over me.
QUEEN.
Vain people have the most curious faith in the unselfishness of everybody else. Ah, here comes the bone of contention, looking remarkably bright.
[Enter PRINCE. He bends over the QUEEN'S hand and gazes up into her eyes, speaking with a new thrill in his voice.]
PRINCE.
My gracious cousin, I hope your health matches this exquisite morning.
QUEEN
[abruptly pointing]
There is Josephine. Give her some of your after-breakfast optimism.
PRINCE.
Ah!
[He bows rather distantly over JOSEPHINE'S hand that is extended with unusual cordiality.]
DUCHESS.
Charles, my dear, don't let us be absurd. Last night was a fantastic heaping of mischance.
PRINCE.
You are neat in phrases, Josephine, but exactly what do they mean? And please don't sulk--only well-loved people can afford to do that.
DUCHESS.
If you dare to presume to criticize me, I will----
QUEEN.
[Looks nervously at PRINCE, who interposes quickly.]
PRINCE.
My dear Josephine, I could not bear to have you hold me responsible for these grotesque discoveries of last night. Apparently he is my brother, and it should have been me who suffered those terrible deformities save for the mischievous meddling of a malicious servant; but certainly now you are his lawful bride, and I have no other name than one the Queen's mercy can devise.
JOSEPHINE.
But your Majesty will do something for us, after all, we love each other!
PRINCE.
[Looks at JOSEPHINE over the edge of his buttonhole, into which his nose becomes completely submerged.]
Do you love me this morning, Josephine?
DUCHESS.
You loved me last night.
PRINCE
[sighing]
I think there has always been something a little angular in our relations and now that it has become my duty to relinquish you, I rather fancy there is no harm in assuring you it is also my pleasure.
[A momentary look of pity for JOSEPHINE crosses the QUEEN'S countenance, replaced by an obvious flow of childish joy.]
QUEEN.
You have not really cared, but----
PRINCE.
Save for--but it is so very early and bright, and we are not alone.
DUCHESS.
So sorry to be in the way. I shall hope to be dismissed presently. I can hear you are tuning up, Charles. Ah, well, I shall have a clown for a husband. What more should a married woman wish for? And plenty of time to catch the roses and the sighs wafting up from my gardens. But Charles, where is your little blind girl?
PRINCE.
How should I know? She found the Queen and delivered her note.
QUEEN.
How did you know she had a note to deliver?
PRINCE.
I ran into her with Phedro coming through the garden. He went to see if all was right with Josephine, while I----
DUCHESS.
Mingled hands, at least, for she said: "He told me that he wanted me for himself and forever, nor was he the Court Steward, for he wore a great oblong stone upon his hand." I hope she comes back with my intended, and tells to your Majesty the story of Charles's little lapse into the romantic. O, listening to her one must believe her, for she has all that obvious lack of fancy only to be found among rarely good people. Her face is quite open and classic, unbroken by the slightest hint of imagination. A lie couldn't possibly twist up through such regular lines.
QUEEN.
[Over her face has gradually grown a singular change.]
Mingling hands, ah, that was why
--[she bites her lip, passing her hand across her brow.]
However, to that later. Josephine
--[in a kinder tone]
I have made you acquainted with our disposition. Go now and prepare to become the Duchess of Vaucluse.
[JOSEPHINE is about to exit, when PHEDRO enters hurriedly.]
PHEDRO.
Your Majesty.
QUEEN.
Oh, what an air of rush there is about everything this morning. Well, speak, speak.
PHEDRO.
Her Grace cannot become the Duchess of Vaucluse.
QUEEN.
Ah, why not?
PHEDRO.
He is beyond us.
QUEEN.
Do you mean that he has sought for himself, the only satisfactory rest!--a sleep without dreams. He is dead!--How?
PHEDRO.
The philosopher and the blind girl escaped with him at dawn; long before sunrise an old, disused hulk was seen going down the river, and in the blaze of this morning has returned with only the philosopher and his hired oarsmen. Apparently the blind girl died from the tremors of escape, and the clown in his grief found nothing left in himself to face life with, so he threw his distressed person into the sea.
QUEEN.
So, Josephine, your second bridegroom has been seduced away from you by Destiny. Charles, your fortune, which was at any rate confiscate to your brother, now passes to the Crown. I wonder just how you will manage.
[CHARLES throws her a tender, confident look which she evades.]
But one thing at a time. Josephine, what occurs to you in this fitful moment?
DUCHESS.
Life nauseates me so at the moment that it is difficult to imagine any corner where I would not be too dizzy with hatred to stand. If you will permit me, I shall return to my rooms to think. There are some agreeable things scattered through my rooms that may possibly inspire direction.
QUEEN.
Your sensations, Josephine, they have always been so much more acute than your emotions. I wonder if you could not turn with a certain surprising equanimity from regarding the marble forms of your Greeks to the Gothic saints of wood and ivory, then one would detect incense in the fold of your shroud instead of patchouli in the pleats of your cambric. You know, probably you could find in the distortions of religious mania a perfect pendant to your taste for deformities in life.
DUCHESS.
You are cruel, and you are irreverent.
QUEEN.
Ah, my dear, in that last epithet speaks your extreme desirability for the vocation, superstition, which is nothing more nor less than fear of reason, or possibly a certain instinct that the truth would make everything look rather second class--if one is second class one's self.
DUCHESS.
I suppose it is not incumbent upon me to stand here in order that my character inspire you with further Socratic comment.
QUEEN.
Not at all, my dear sister; by all means seek your fauns and draperies and forgive me for prattling on quite regardless of sowing the tragic seed--ennui.
[At this juncture it is only the intense refinement of the DUCHESS which prevents her from falling into the unbecoming posture of powerless invective. PHEDRO, who has listened to the foregoing, presumes here to interrupt.]
PHEDRO.
Your Majesty, have I your permission to retire?
QUEEN
[turning vaguely toward him]
Certainly, certainly, Phedro. It must be extremely fatiguing to keep on hitting, one after another, so many peculiar facts.
PHEDRO
[bowing low]
My position in your Majesty's service is far too exhilarating to permit of fatigue. To breathe is occasionally difficult
[his voice lowers to something resembling a hiss],
consequently to rest does not occur.
[He glances about him as if at a group of neatly despatched marionettes--a glare of furtive hatred distorting his features, which is hastily veiled by his usual laconic humility.
The QUEEN precipitates his departure with a wave of her hand, to which he instantly submits.]
[Exit PHEDRO.]
DUCHESS.
[Resuming in a voice of excessive boredom.]
Well, adieu, Charles, I suppose you will go on alternating between vice and sentimentality until the curtain drops. You know, one reason why you never attracted me?
PRINCE.
Josephine, is this quite in taste?
DUCHESS.
Taste is something one uses on arranging one's rooms, not upon human beings.
QUEEN.
Well hit, Josephine. You have at least the satisfaction of going out to the ringing of the bull's eye.
DUCHESS.
Possibly.
[She exits after courtseying to the QUEEN, who returns it in proper measure. There is a silence. PRINCE looks tenderly at the QUEEN, who moves about in a rather staccato manner, disturbing perfectly placed bibelots and pieces of furniture.]
PRINCE.
We are alone at last.
QUEEN.
That word should sound like the fold of wings around one's exhausted body.
PRINCE
[archly]
Substitute arms for wings, and could for should, if I may be permitted to correct----
QUEEN.
Oh, Charles, don't woo me with this poetic verbosity to take the place of feeling. It is so exactly what you would say to the brewer's daughter, had you selected her to save your estate and pay your bills.
PRINCE.
Ah, Anne, Anne, why will you be so ironic?
QUEEN.
Once or twice I thought of not being ironic, of looking into some person's eyes, and not finding that I had to look away, of resting with someone in a long silence full of exchanged beauties.
PRINCE
[approaching her]
Anne, dear, how----
[The QUEEN laughs and backs away from him, where he stands with his arms stretched out towards her. In her laugh suddenly there is a slight sob.]
QUEEN.
Stand that way another instant, Charles. Ah, here is everything I have wanted, schemed for, wept about, in the position I have dreamt of it.
[She glances out at the park.]
The back drop is perfect also. Birds' song, the freshness of morning, sunlight, youth,--youth to be gotten through somehow. However, here it all is, a dream--and not turning pale as all the others did in daylight. Yet, strangely enough, I cannot find a self in me to come forward and take these things as they are now.
PRINCE.
Anne, Anne, for God's sake--I swear to you I can explain everything.
QUEEN.
Try not to let your fear of personal consequences intercept the pity you should feel for me.
PRINCE.
Anne, I love you, I love you.
QUEEN.
Why, why is it that people cannot watch anything die in silence? I suppose after all you are not sufficiently ruthless to carry off your own selfishness with any sort of dignity.
PRINCE
[sulkily]
You do not believe me. You credit the report of a woman who has every reason to hate me.
QUEEN.
No, I credit intuition, instinct that is always stinging past what one wants to think and flinging some dismantled idol across one's feet. Somehow, from looking down at a lie one can never look up to that particular thing again.
PRINCE.
It was the lie you minded more than what I did.
QUEEN.
I think a truth, no matter of what kind, would have given me some point of exhilaration upon which to try you out.
PRINCE.
Oh, Anne, I do not understand you.
QUEEN.
It is as well we found out. How jocosely casual we are about our spirits. We tie them into some bondage of eternity for the security of a night's lodging, and then wonder that life grows sour upon our palate.
[she smiles over at CHARLES'S bewilderment]
Which means, in the literal terms of those who credit reincarnation, that if we married, those things you would have to do to keep your heart up would cause your next showing to degenerate into a slight motion of slime at the base of mountains. Think of the distance lost, Charles, for such a little mincing forward step. Come, the morning wanes. Fortunately there are things to do, no matter what cannot be done. I shall return you half of your fortune, which, you will remember, is wholly confiscate to the Crown, but upon the condition that you pass the fleeting future from well under my nose. I could not bear to be incessantly reading my past, which is printed all over you in large letters. Really, Charles, you are a shifting mass of monuments to the hope of a ridiculous person.
PRINCE.
You have broken my heart. I may as well go, I suppose.
QUEEN.
Thank God, I have a literal mind, for what you have said, as you have said it, literally means, "I see you have found me out, so I suppose there is no use wasting any more time around here."
PRINCE.
You are impossible. You think too quickly.
QUEEN
[smiling broadly]
Charles, Charles, go now, now, while I am smiling at you. It will be nice to remember our saying good-bye and smiling.
[She comes to him, takes his hand, looks up at him, but he will not let his face be natural. She smooths his face, apparently looking for some effect of Nature. Finally his features do relax into a rather sheepish, furtive smile.]
Ah, now, I see you do not want to talk about it any more, and you do want to get right away. There, go.
[She pushes him toward the door, and out through it, and he is heard remonstrating with her down the hallway. In a few seconds she re-enters with his boutonniere in her hand. She looks rather strangely about her, and presses his flower to her mouth.]
QUEEN.
My child, my love, it had to be good-bye this time.
[Far in the distance the air of "Clair de Lune" is being played upon myriad guitars and flutes.]
CURTAIN
[THE END]
Michael Strange's play: Clair de Lune
_
Read previous: Act 2 - Scene 2
Table of content of Clair de Lune
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book
