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More Portmanteau Plays
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Год написания книги
2018
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So by the crescent moon
He asked a royal boon
And sat him down on a soft green knoll—
And the night-time came too soon.
MLLE. PERRAULT
Oh, that is just like a little French peasant song! How does it go? La—la—la—la—la—la.
[Susan begins to play it again.
Jonathan sings more surely than before.
Slowly Mlle. Perrault falls into the rhythm and very simply dances a little peasant dance to Jonathan's and Susan's song. The two youngsters are in the seventh heaven of delight.
So—when one is very happy or very sad, he makes a song and when he's very, very happy, he dances. And when he is very, very, very unhappy he dies. You see, I am very, very happy. When do you play Zenobia, Mr. Jefferson, Sr.?
JONATHAN
I'll have it ready tomorrow, maybe tonight.
NATHANIEL
We shall have a season ticket. But now, I want you to meet my blessed Aunt Letitia. She hasn't changed one bit in all these years.
MLLE. PERRAULT
To Aunt Letitia then. Good-bye, Jonathan. Tomorrow is the day of the great première.
JONATHAN (awkwardly)
Thanks.
MLLE. PERRAULT
And la belle petite Susanne, au revoir.
SUSAN
I'll walk with you part of the way.
MLLE. PERRAULT
Very well. Marchons, marchons....
[They go out.
NATHANIEL (holding back a little)
Good-bye, Mr. Manager.
[He goes out calling "Marthe."
Jonathan is left alone in his joy. As he stands, a strange, aimless, vacuous whistling is heard outside the window an though from one ambling by. Jonathan hears it unconsciously, moves to put his plays away, alternately whistling and singing "All on a summer's day."
Presently the whistling of the strange air is heard as though coming from downstairs. It stops and a voice calls out "Hi!"
JONATHAN
Who is it?
VOICE
It's me.
JONATHAN
What do you want?
[By this time the Voice has become a person in the shape of Hank, one of the scum of creation who asks nothing of life and gives nothing. He was born of woman and he grew into man's form, but one looking at him wonders how he survived dirt and the mere effort of breathing. He is stoutish with no marked coloring unless it be a cross between khaki and field-gray. Weather and time have conspired to render him inconspicuous. When he speaks his voice is produced with a careful effort to conserve energy. When he walks it seems to be a movement in answer to prayer rather than a physical fact.
HANK
Say—
JONATHAN
How'd you get in here?
HANK
Well, it's this way, you see. The gate was open out there and this looked pretty fine to me so I come in.
JONATHAN
You'd better go away before my uncle sees you.
HANK
Look here, young feller, I ain't goin' a-do no harm.
JONATHAN
Well, he doesn't allow strangers on the place.
HANK
I jus' come in to ask if I could sleep somewhere around here if I worked for my sleep and grub.
JONATHAN
He asked a royal boon
And sat him down on a soft green knoll—
And the night-time came too soon.
MLLE. PERRAULT
Oh, that is just like a little French peasant song! How does it go? La—la—la—la—la—la.
[Susan begins to play it again.
Jonathan sings more surely than before.
Slowly Mlle. Perrault falls into the rhythm and very simply dances a little peasant dance to Jonathan's and Susan's song. The two youngsters are in the seventh heaven of delight.
So—when one is very happy or very sad, he makes a song and when he's very, very happy, he dances. And when he is very, very, very unhappy he dies. You see, I am very, very happy. When do you play Zenobia, Mr. Jefferson, Sr.?
JONATHAN
I'll have it ready tomorrow, maybe tonight.
NATHANIEL
We shall have a season ticket. But now, I want you to meet my blessed Aunt Letitia. She hasn't changed one bit in all these years.
MLLE. PERRAULT
To Aunt Letitia then. Good-bye, Jonathan. Tomorrow is the day of the great première.
JONATHAN (awkwardly)
Thanks.
MLLE. PERRAULT
And la belle petite Susanne, au revoir.
SUSAN
I'll walk with you part of the way.
MLLE. PERRAULT
Very well. Marchons, marchons....
[They go out.
NATHANIEL (holding back a little)
Good-bye, Mr. Manager.
[He goes out calling "Marthe."
Jonathan is left alone in his joy. As he stands, a strange, aimless, vacuous whistling is heard outside the window an though from one ambling by. Jonathan hears it unconsciously, moves to put his plays away, alternately whistling and singing "All on a summer's day."
Presently the whistling of the strange air is heard as though coming from downstairs. It stops and a voice calls out "Hi!"
JONATHAN
Who is it?
VOICE
It's me.
JONATHAN
What do you want?
[By this time the Voice has become a person in the shape of Hank, one of the scum of creation who asks nothing of life and gives nothing. He was born of woman and he grew into man's form, but one looking at him wonders how he survived dirt and the mere effort of breathing. He is stoutish with no marked coloring unless it be a cross between khaki and field-gray. Weather and time have conspired to render him inconspicuous. When he speaks his voice is produced with a careful effort to conserve energy. When he walks it seems to be a movement in answer to prayer rather than a physical fact.
HANK
Say—
JONATHAN
How'd you get in here?
HANK
Well, it's this way, you see. The gate was open out there and this looked pretty fine to me so I come in.
JONATHAN
You'd better go away before my uncle sees you.
HANK
Look here, young feller, I ain't goin' a-do no harm.
JONATHAN
Well, he doesn't allow strangers on the place.
HANK
I jus' come in to ask if I could sleep somewhere around here if I worked for my sleep and grub.
JONATHAN
Другие электронные книги автора Stuart Walker
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