| |
Madame. A beautiful woman, prospective purchaser. Her husband.
The Woman. [Before the mirror.] No, no, thank you; this one | |
| Would cost too much. I will just— | |
No, no; I can not—
[Stands before the mirror, fascinated.] | |
| |
| A Voice. From beneath the garland on your hair | |
| I drink your beauty. | 5 |
| |
| Your soul is clothed | |
| By your body. | |
| Your limbs are swathed and clothed. | |
| Your face is covered | |
| With shadows. | 10 |
| Still I drink, | |
| I drink. | |
| My greedy soul sips the beauty | |
| Of each curve so delicate. | |
| My eyes are golden bees— | 15 |
| Your mouth’s a rosy flower. | |
| Hold your body for your lover! | |
| I delve | |
| For dearer treasures. | |
| |
| From your fortress threefold | 20 |
| I will steal you for my own. | |
| Thinner, softer, dearer: | |
| I will shape your limbs for me, | |
| And coil and uncoil your speckled hair. | |
| |
| Lightning rifts the face of the sky— | 25 |
| Little glints between the shadows, | |
| Little holes in the face of the sky. | |
Stars … Eyes …
[From some place behind the partition comes the peculiar giggle of a woman.] | |
| |
| Madame. This hat makes your face | |
| A flower. | 30 |
| |
| The Woman. But I have told you | |
| I can not. [Whispering is heard.] What is this? | |
| |
| A Voice. Are you leaping | |
| Up a mountain? | |
| Are you skipping | 35 |
| Down a valley? | |
| Are you hiding | |
| In my body? | |
| The horizon— | |
| Is it you? | 40 |
| Flesh is weak wine | |
| For the heart. | |
| |
| Madame. This place is | |
| A little haunted. | |
| I—I am really a fairy—the witch-fairy Genève. | 45 |
| You may own this hat | |
| If you lend me your soul | |
| For the time of a spell— | |
| For the time it takes me | |
To boil the lizard’s liver.
[Giggling is heard again. The Woman makes for the door, beginning to take the hat off, nervously.] | 50 |
| |
| Madame. [Very gently.] I hold my souls very dear— | |
| I never hurt them; | |
| I never let harm happen to them. | |
| They are my children; dearer. | |
| |
The Woman. [Angrily.] No, no!
[Madame holds her arm and whispers long to her soothingly.] | 55 |
| |
The Woman. [Laughing nervously.] No, no!
[Madame takes her arm. Partly drawn, she goes along. Madame whispers to her.] | |
| |
| A Voice. Hush, hush— | |
| Hear her soft step … | |
| Time, space and all | |
| Lie—a crumpled rag— | 60 |
| Behind her … | |
| Hear her step … | |
| Her soft step … | |
| |
| The Woman. [Laughing.] Who? | |
| |
| Madame. Maybe a president | 65 |
| Of some bank. | |
| Gentlemen … always | |
Highly recommended.
[A man is dimly visible sitting at a little table on which is some wine.] | |
| |
The Woman. [Attempting to draw back.] I—I—
[She hesitates, half fascinated. Her eyes and the man’s meet. Husband and wife face one another, raging spasmodically.] | |
| |
| A Voice. Leaves in the wind | 70 |
| Pirouetting, | |
| Grimacing, | |
| Puffing out— | |
| Withering, | |
| Withering. | 75 |
| |
The Woman. You!
[She stands against the wall, crying. Suddenly she bursts out laughing.] | |
| |
The Man. You!
[He recoils with extreme contempt. After pacing the room, he speaks firmly.] | |
| Let us | |
Talk this over.
[His gaze falls, and rests on the portières of a little room.] | |
| |
The Woman. Yes.
[Laughs again.] | 80 |
| |
The Man. [Beyond himself.] You!
[He rises, but sits down again. His appearance becomes mysteriously changed.] | |
| |
| The Woman. [Her wet eyes close to his face.] Who—are you? | |
| |
| The Man. [Earnestly.] Who are we? | |
| |
The Woman. We are strangers.
[She repeats, crying tauntingly.] | |
| We are strangers! | 85 |
| |
| The Man. [Laughs loud and kisses her.] This place is haunted. | |
| |
