This is part 1 of 4. Maintain consistent style and terminology across parts.
THE NORTH STAR
By
Franco LALLI.
THE NORTH STAR
BY
FRANCO LALLI
(A LONG, STRAIGHT AVENUE OF TREES, VERY WHITE, AS
IF PAVED WITH CLOUDS. THE WHOLE SCENE IS IN MYSTERY,
LIKE A LUNAR LANDSCAPE. A YOUNG MAN WALKS
ALONG THE AVENUE. WE SEE HIM IN THE DISTANCE FROM
BEHIND. THE TRAVELER ARRIVES AT A GATE WHERE TWO
ANGELS, FACING EACH OTHER AT A POLE, ARE STANDING
IN TWO ENORMOUS BOOKS.)
FIRST ANGEL:
(RAISES HIS HEAD AND LOOKS AT THE TRAVELER)
Where are you going?
TRAVELER:
I don't know. I was told to come here.
FIRST ANGEL:
You must first go into that house. Just go in, make
choices and come back here. Then we'll let you in.
TRAVELER:
What should I choose?
SECOND ANGEL:
A memory. But mind, only one, do you understand?
THE NORTH STAR
By
Franco LALLI.
(A LONG, STRAIGHT AVENUE OF TREES, VERY WHITE, AS IF PAVED WITH CLOUDS. THE WHOLE SETTING IS MYSTERIOUS, LIKE A LUNAR LANDSCAPE. A YOUNG MAN WALKS ALONG THE AVENUE. WE SEE HIM IN THE DISTANCE FROM BEHIND. THE TRAVELER ARRIVES AT A GATE WHERE TWO ANGELS, FACING EACH OTHER AT A DESK, ARE WRITING IN TWO ENORMOUS BOOKS.)
FIRST ANGEL:
(RAISES HIS HEAD AND LOOKS AT THE TRAVELER)
Where are you going?
TRAVELER:
I don't know, I was told to come here.
FIRST ANGEL:
You must first go into that house. Just go in, make your choice and come back here. Then we'll let you in.
TRAVELER:
What should I choose?
FIRST ANGEL:
A memory. But mind, only one, do you understand?
TRAVELER:
(APOLOGETICALLY)
Not quite, I am afraid. I am new here ... I come from Paris.
FIRST ANGEL:
I know ...
(INDICATING THE BIG BOOK IN FRONT OF HIM)
....It's all written here.
TRAVELER:
I don't know this place, I don't know your customs...
FIRST ANGEL:
(INDICATES A LITTLE HOUSE NOT FAR FROM THE GATE)
All the memories of your life are in there. Chose one --the one that's dearest to you, the one you would like to keep with you forever. Then come back here.
TRAVELER:
(WONDERING)
Ah!...
(WALKS AWAY, BUT AFTER A FEW STEPS COMES BACK TO THE GATE)
Only one?
FIRST ANGEL:
That's right. And don't let yourself be tempted to take more as most people do. You'd just be sent back to the house to leave them there.
(RAISES HIS INDEX FINGER)
One... All right?
TRAVELER:
I think so... But... (HESITATES, LOOKS DOWN AT HIS HANDS) But I remember Mother saying...
FIRST ANGEL:
(KINDLY)
Yes... go ahead and say it.
TRAVELER:
Is it important? The choice, I mean... Will it be held against me if I choose wrong?
FIRST ANGEL:
You have nothing to fear. It's your soul that will make the choice, remembering the things it has loved most on earth. Go now, don't worry.
TRAVELER:
(WALKS TOWARDS THE HOUSE AS A NOCTURNE PLAYS SOFTLY IN THE BACKGROUND. IN THE HOUSE, HE FINDS HIMSELF IN A LARGE HALL ENTIRELY LINED WITH MIRRORS, WHERE HE SEES HIS IMAGE REFLECTED A HUNDRED TIMES: LIGHT CHESTNUT HAIR, LONG, SILKY EYELASHES, INTENSE AND PASSIONATE EYES -- A FACE OF ALMOST FEMININE GRACE AND BEAUTY. A LITTLE LATER THESE MIRRORS WILL REFLECT THE DIFFERENT SCENES OF THE TRAVELER'S LIFE.)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
My sister Emily died of tuberculosis when he was fourteen years old. That was in Warsaw -- in 1822. We were All gathered in her roo...
(SCENE)
.......Mother and Father, my other two sisters and I. Being together was some comfort at least. But I remember Mother saying ...
MOTHER:
What is going to happen to these poor children? What is going to happen to all of us?...
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
August 11th, 1829. The night of my first great concert at the Vienna Royal Theatre. I was nineteen. When I went out into the corridor ... I found Haslinger, my publisher, who ran to meet me.
HASLINGER:
(GESTICULATING)
A triumph! A triumph!.. In one hour you have conquered Vienna ... and fame! The audience won't leave the theatre. Listen ....
(VOICES AND APPLAUSE IN THE BACKGROUND)
Aren't you happy?
TRAVELER:
Oh, yes, very ...
HASLINGER:
You look worried...
TRAVELER:
I'm thinking of my mother and father... I wish they were here...
HASLINGER:
(PATTING HIS SHOULDER)
They'll come... we'll send for them, don't worry. Now come along, everybody wants to congratulate you...
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
From Vienna I went to Paris where I met Rossini. I gave several concerts and one success followed the other. But I was still poor, and very lonely — homesick for Warsaw and my home. One evening I met Prince Valentine Radziwill.
(SCENE)
PRINCE RADZIWILL:
(JESTING)
Looking for oblivion... or for inspiration?
TRAVELER:
(STARTELED)
Oh, it's you, Prince Radziwill! Good evening.
PRINCE RADZIWILL:
Where are you going?
TRAVELER:
Just wandering...
PRINCE RADZIWILL:
A very modest itinerary. You'd better come with me...
TRAVELER:
Where to?
(COMING UP TO THEM)
PRINCE RADZIWILL:
There is a reception at the Rothschilds'.
(BOWING)
TRAVELER:
Ily honored ...
But ... I am not dressed ...
GEORGE SAND:
PRINCE RADZIWILL: saying your nocturnes I could see the deep blue sky and (LAUGHING) tears. I think I shall call Geniuses and children needn't worry about clothes ... Let's go.
FRANZ LISZT:
A very appropriate (FADE)
GEORGE SAND:
TRAVELER'S VOICE: I am having a few friends for dinner. It was a memorable evening. All the aristocracy, art and wealth of Paris had gathered in the salons of the Rothschild mansion. As soon as I finished playing, Franz Liszt came to greet me...
(SCENE)
FRANZ LISZT:
You were magnificient, my dear young friend ...
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
TRAVELER: giving lessons to pupils Prince Radziwill and Thank you, Liszy, thank you.
FRANZ LISZT:
(SCENE)
George Sand, France's greatest woman writer, is here tonight and she asked me ... Jane Stirling?
GEORGE SAND:
(COMING UP TO THEM)
May I shake your hand?
TRAVELER:
(BOWING)
I am greatly honored ...
GEORGE SAND:
While you were playing your nocturnes I could see the deep blue sky and all the stars. I think I shall call you my "North Star"... What do you think, Liszt?
FRANZ LISZT:
A very appropriate name.
GEORGE SAND:
(FADE)
Thursday evening I am having a few friends for dinner. May I count on you?
TRAVELER:
(GAZING AT HER AS IF BEWITCHED)
Please do, I'll be there ...
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
I began giving lessons to pupils Prince Radziwill and Baron Rothschild had obtained for me. My first pupil...
(SCENE)
TRAVELER: Is this the residence of Miss Jane Stirling?
MAID: (LETTING HIM IN) Yes, sir. Please come in. Miss Stirling is expecting you. (SHOWS HIM INTO A SITTING ROOM)
MISS STIRLING: (ENTERS WITH HANDS OUTSTRETCHED) I am so happy to see you, Maestro ...
TRAVELER: Thank you, you are very kind.
MISS STIRLING: I hope soon to be your best pupil, as I already am your most devoted admirer ...
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE: I could see at once the kindness and devotion that shone in the eyes of this young, wealthy English girl, the finest, loveliest woman I have ever met. But I had been bewitched by another woman, and soon I forgot Miss Sterling as I forgot my other pupils.
(SCENE IN MISS STIRLING'S HOUSE)
MISS STIRLING: (IMPATIENTLY, RISING AND LEAVING THE PIANO AT WHICH SHE HAD BEEN SITTING)
Five o'clock... He won't come... be born unhappy. (SADLY, ARRANGING A BIG BUNCH OF ROSES IN A VASE) Poor flowers, they are withering... They have been waiting since yesterday too...
FRANZ LISZT: ...friend, the other is to love... (HE IS SITTING IN A CORNER, IDLY TURNING THE PAGES OF A MUSICAL SCORE) What was his usual time for coming?... he who is so romantic and kind, be attracted by a woman like that, who... and plays with men like a cat with a...
MISS STIRLING: Three o'clock... Do you think he may be ill? The last time he came he was coughing...
FRANZ LISZT: No, he isn't ill.
MISS STIRLING: ...have been told about George Sand's past and... What is it then?... done that poor Alfred Kunset.
FRANZ LISZT: It's that woman... That woman... but he can't break away from her. He talks about his family and his home, and how he'd like to go back to Poland where the Russians are slaughtering his people... fight beside his friends... break the chains that enslave his unfortunate country to Moscow... and instead...
MISS STIRLING: (POIGNANTLY) George Sand?
FRANZ LISZT: (PAUSE) It's her eyes... (NODS) And I was the one who introduced him to her!
MISS STIRLING: (PAUSE) I've spoken to him about his future... his precarious health... But he won't listen... he has been ensnared! (CLOSES THE SCORE AND RISES) Well... We can only hope that he will get over it.
MISS STIRLING: Oh, no, he won't get over it. There are some poisons for
which there is no cure. One is to be born unhappy. Another...
FRANZ LISZT:
(TAKING BOTH HER HANDS IN HIS)
I know, my poor friend, the other is to love...
MISS STIRLING:
But how is it possible? How can he, he who is so romantic and kind, be attracted by a woman like that, who swears and smokes cigars and plays with men like a cat with a mouse?
FRANZ LISZT:
That's exactly why he fell in love with her: because of the mysterious law of contrasts.
MISS STIRLING:
But he should have been told about George Sand's past and the harm she has done that poor Alfred Musset.
FRANZ LISZT:
Oh, he knows it... knows it all... but he can't break away from her. He talks about his family and his home, and how he would like to go back to Poland where the Russians are slaughtering his people... fight beside his friends.. break the chains that enslave his unfortunate country to Moscow... and instead...
(PAUSE)
It's her eyes...
MISS STIRLING:
What?
FRANZ LISZT:
The eyes of George Sand...
MISS STIRLING:
But when you know the perfidy and treachery that lie behind those eyes...
FRANZ LISZT:
(INTERRUPTING)
It doesn't matter: earth's most venomous creature is the coral snake, and yet the little birds flutter happily around it, fascinated by its glowing colors.
(PAUSE)
It's a trap, I know, an illusion -- but I am convinced that others, many, many others, have been victims of the same illusion. Those eyes...
(AS THOUGH TALKING TO HIMSELF)
Those velvet eyes, as deep and voluptuous as night...
MISS STIRLING:
(SURPRISED, WATCHING HIM CLOSELY)
Liszt! Are you in love with her too?
FRANZ LISZT:
No... not any more... But I have been...
(THOUGHTFUL AND BITTER)
And I know how the poison works!...
MAID:
(APPEARING AT THE DOOR WITH A PACKAGE IN HER HAND)
May I come in?
MISS STIRLING
What is it?
MAID:
A man just left this. He said they are the concert tickets --two hundred and fifty in all, he said.
MISS STIRLING:
All right, Leave them on the piano.
MAID: (CONTINUOUSLY)
Very well, Madam.
(LEAVES THE PACKAGE AND GOES OUT)
FRANZ LISZT:
(GOES TO THE PIANO AND PICKS UP THE PACKAGE)
What concert is it?
MISS STIRLING:
His concert. Two weeks from today.
FRANZ LISZT:
(LOOKING AT HER IN ASTONISHMENT)
And you bought two hundred and fifty tickets for it?
MISS STIRLING:
(NODS WITH EMBARRASSMENT)
FRANZ LISZT:
(PUTS DOWN THE PACKAGE AND LEAVES THE ROOM)
(FADES TO SCENE IN GEORGE SAND'S HOUSE)
GEORGE SAND:
We are the center of a cobweb of gossip, lies and slander..
(SHE NERVOUSLY PACES UP AND DOWN THE ROOM)
TRAVELER:
(FOLLOWING HER WITH HIS EYES)
What does it matter? Let them talk...
GEORGE SAND:
(CONTEMPTUOUSLY)
It doesn't matter to me. And it's nothing new; people are always envious of those who are happy.
TRAVELER:
[unclear: text partially obscured by bleed-through] Well, then...
GEORGE SAND:
Then I shall reply to their slander in my own way: with a scandal. That's what I shall do...
TRAVELER:
(SURPRISED)
What do you mean? What scandal?
GEORGE SAND:
We shall run away together. That way there will be no more suspicion, no more gossip: everything will be as plain as day and everybody will know what we are doing.
TRAVELER:
(SMILING INCREDULOUSLY)
But where shall we go?
GEORGE SAND:
To Majorca.
TRAVELER:
(SURPRISED)
Majorca? And why Majorca? Why not Nice, or Venice..?
GEORGE SAND:
(FIRMLY)
[unclear: text partially obscured by bleed-through]
No, I have decided. I want to go to a place that is wild, and remote, and full of sun and wind and stars. In Majorca there are palm trees and the sea is always as blue as the sky. You'll be able to take care of that bronchitis. You can go for long walks and get well and I'll finish my book and be happy.
(GOES TO THE WINDOW, LIFTS A CORNER OF THE CURTAIN, THEN, NOTICING HIS LONG SILENCE, TURNS AND FACES HIM)
What is it? Don't you like the idea? Are you afraid of what people will say? Or are you afraid to come with me?
TRAVELER: (SOFTLY)
Oh, my love, my Aurora, you know that I am only afraid to lose you... but...
GEORGE SAND:
Don't tell me that by running away we would be acting imprudently or sinfully, for if you do, I'll never want to set eyes on you again. In my life there is room only for people who have the courage to do what they like, regardless of absurd social prohibitions and barriers.
TRAVELER: (TAKES HER IN HIS ARMS)
I wasn't thinking of that. I don't care what people say. I've forgotten even that people exist.
GEORGE SAND: (LOWERING HIS EYES)
... including my own people ...
GEORGE SAND:
The sooner you forget your people and Poland with its aspirations and mazurkas, the better for you. You must live,
come out of that gloomy sentimentality you have been swaddled in since your childhood. You must live, you must laugh, you must be gay.
TRAVELER:
I doubt that it will ever be possible.
GEORGE SAND:
Yes, it will, if you let me be your guide.
TRAVELER:
(DOCILELY)
All right, I'll do as you say. But I have arranged for two concerts and I have some new lessons ...
GEORGE SAND:
Oh, the devil take your concerts, your lessons and your pupils. Aren't you tired of breathing this pestilential atmosphere, of being nice to the mass of morons that surrounds us? Aren't you thirsty for space, light, solitude?
TRAVELER:
(TAKES HER IN HIS ARMS)
Yes ... so thirsty ... thirsty for you ...
(THEY KISS)
GEORGE SAND:
And so?
come out of that gloomy sentimentality you have been swaddled in since your childhood. You must live, you must laugh, you must be gay. (SMILING)
And so we shall go to Majorca.
TRAVELER:
I doubt that it will ever be possible.
GEORGE SAND:
Yes, it will, if you let me be your guide.
TRAVELER:
(DOCILELY)
All right, I'll do as you say. But I have arranged for two concerts and I have some new lessons ...
GEORGE SAND:
Oh, the devil take your concerts, your lessons and your pupils. Aren't you tired of breathing this pestilential atmosphere, of being nice to the mass of morons that surrounds us? Aren't you thirsty for space, light, solitude?
TRAVELER:
(TAKES HER IN HIS ARMS)
Yes ... so thirsty ... thirsty for you ...
(THEY KISS)
GEORGE SAND:
And so?
TRAVELER:
First you refuse (SMILING) and the water. Do you want to
And so we shall go to Majorca.
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
We arrived in Majorca on a rainy day and it kept on raining
for three weeks. I was very ill. We had found a room at an
inn called "The House of the Wind" because of the wind from
the southwest that battered it day and night. One morning we
received a visit from the landlord, a red-faced, corpulent man, who said...
(IRONICALLY)
(SCENE)
LANDLORD:
I came to tell you that from now on we won't be able to
feed you...
GEORGE SAND:
One more headache...
LANDLORD:
My wife is not well and cannot cook...
TRAVELER:
First you refused us fire and thin water. Do you want to starve us now?
LANDLORD:
You are sick and you need special care. We can't...
TRAVELER:
(INTERRUPTING)
Who said I was sick?
LANDLORD:
(IRONICALLY)
Oh, we know, we know ... We hear you coughing all night long ...
TRAVELER:
It's nothing but bronchitis. I would have got over it if it weren't for this weather and ...
GEORGE SAND:
Don't worry, we'll find someone to cook for us.
LANDLORD:
You'd better find yourselves other lodgings too. We need this room for ourselves.
GEORGE SAND:
(REALIZING THE TRUTH)
But then this is an eviction! You want to throw us out!
LANDLORD:
With children in the house, one has to take precautions: certain diseases are contagious. And then there is another reason...
TRAVELER:
(ANGRILY)
But I've already told you...
GEORGE SAND:
Don't get excited: let him have his say.
(TO THE LANDLORD)
Go on.
LANDLORD:
Well...
(A LITTLE EMBARRASSED)
... we are poor but we are honest people. And we don't want scandals...
(STOPS SUDDENLY AND TURNS TO THE DOOR)
... so now you know.
GEORGE SAND:
(STOPS HIM)
Wait a minute. What scandals are you talking about?
LANDLORD:
We have heard that you two are not married.
GEORGE SAND:
And what about it? That's no concern of yours...
LANDLORD:
Agreed. But my business is no concern of yours either. And I want you to clear out by tomorrow.
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
Twenty-four hours later we were in the street. It was raining, and we did not know where to go. We knocked at several doors, but not one was even opened for us. At last a good soul, probably the only good soul on that savage island, showed us the road to an old monastery: Val de Mosa...
(SCENE)
TRAVELER:
(TO AN OLD FRIAR WHO OPENS THE GATE OF THE MONASTERY)
May we beg your hospitality? We are strangers...
FRIAR:
Oh, but you are drenched! Come in, come in, you shouldn't be
out in this weather ...
(they enter and the friar explains)
This is the cloister, and that is the door leading to the cells ...
george sand:
(looking around)
Is the monastery empty?
friar:
No: the friars live on the other side, beyond that wall. But this side is vacant and we use it to shelter strangers.
traveler:
Fortunately for us.
friar:
I must warn you, though, that the cells are very cold and many of the windows are broken.
george sand:
It really doesn't matter. We have plenty of blankets and after all this bad weather cannot last for ever.
friar:
(smiles foolishly)
And then ... I'd better tell you now: there is a ghost.
TRAVELER:
(JESTING)
Do you want to scare us away?
FRIAR:
(SUDDENLY SERIOUS)
It's the truth. It's the ghost of an old friar who died excommunicated. Every night he comes back here. I have tried to catch him, but I have never been able to. Now I am building a trap...
(HE PRECEDES GEORGE SAND AND THE TRAVELER THROUGH THE DOOR LEADING TO THE CELLS.)
TRAVELER:
(ASIDE TO GEORGE SAND)
Is he mad?
GEORGE SAND:
It looks very much like it, doesn't it?
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
I had a piano sent from Paris. Aurora went out a lot, walking or riding, and left me alone. Or else she stayed with me and wrote long letters to our friends while I was playing...
(SCENE)
GEORGE SAND:
Do you want to hear what I've written to Balzac?
TRAVELER:
(STOPS PLAYING THE PIANO AND LISTENS)
GEORGE SAND:
(READING)
"... we live in an old, Fifteenth Century monastery. The windows of our cells look upon a little cemetery, and at night we can hear the friars singing the prayers of the dead. But the melancholy of our night is soon dispelled by the gaiety and happiness of our days. There are orange and lemon trees, cedars and pomegranades. The sky is a roof of turquoise, the mountains are a chain of emeralds. The "North Star" has written twenty-four preludes that are twenty-four bits of pure heaven."
(LOOKS UP FROM HER LETTER)
All right?
TRAVELER:
Yes, but you should tell him about the mad friar and his trap to catch the ghost ...
(GETS UP AND WALKS TO THE DOOR)
GEORGE SAND:
Where are you going?
TRAVELER:
I'm cold. I forgot to close the window of my cell.
(HE GOES TO HIS CELL AND STOPS ON THE THRESHOLD. ON THE FLOOR A LITTLE BIRD IS DYING, FEEBLY FLAPPING ITS WINGS AGAINST THE COLD, GREY STONES. THE TRAVELER PICKS IT UP AND RETRACING HIS STEPS CARRIES IT TO GEORGE SAND.)
Look ... He died this minute.
GEORGE SAND:
Where was it?
TRAVELER:
On the floor of my cell, near the open window.
GEORGE SAND:
(TAKES THE DEAD LITTLE BIRD IN HER HANDS)
Poor little fellow ... It's a nightingale ...
TRAVELER:
How do you know?
GEORGE SAND:
I know them. There are so many in the garden of my house at Nohant.
TRAVELER:
Perhaps he was looking for his nest, or for a friendly heart
GEORGE SAND: (TURNING TO FACE HER)
Or for his lost springtime...scene?
TRAVELER: (GOES TO THE WINDOW AND LOOKS OUTSIDE, COUGHING BADLY)
GEORGE SAND:
Now, you mustn't grieve like that for a little bird. After all so many of them die every day... that I too have lost by springtime...
TRAVELER: (FADE)
That is what you'll say when I die... "so many die every day..." VOICE:
(PAUSES BRIEFLY, THE ALMOST IN A WHISPER)
...and there are so many left!...
GEORGE SAND: (CAUSTIC)
I don't know what I'll say when you die, but surely I'll express myself better than that.
TRAVELER: (SHE IS DRESSED FOR TRAVELING, AND WEARS A HAT WITH A VEIL AND GLOVES. SHE SPEAKS TO A PORTER)
Literature is not my strong point. Here, these are our three suitcases. A carpenter will be here tomorrow to crate the piano, and then you'll ship it to Paris.
GEORGE SAND:
I know. Your strong point is ingratitude.
PORTER:
Don't worry Ma'am. I'll take care of everything.
TRAVELER:
(TURNING TO FACE HER)
Are you going to make another scene?
GEORGE SAND:
I? You are the one who is always making scenes. All we needed was a dead nightingale to start a new crisis.
TRAVELER:
To remind me that I too have no nest, that I too have lost by springtime...
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
As if the little bird had actually been the messenger of death, from that day on I no longer was able to work. My health deteriorated further. Our quarrels became insufferable. We decided to leave Majorca.
(SCENE)
GEORGE SAND:
(SHE IS DRESSED FOR TRAVELING, AND WEARS A HAT WITH A VEIL AND GLOVES. SHE SPEAKS TO A PORTER)
Here, these are our three suitcases. A carpenter will be here tomorrow to crate the piano, and then you'll ship it to Paris.
PORTER:
Don't worry Ma'am. I'll take care of everything.
TRAVELER:
(SMILING AT THE OLD FRIAR AT THE GATE)
This is for you ...
(GIVES THE OLD FRIAR SOME MONEY)
... and if you ever catch the ghost let us know...
FRIAR:
(GRAFFILY)
I have discovered his secret. The ghost can't walk, you see, because he has no feet. That's why I couldn't catch him.
TRAVELER:
(SIMULATING ASTONISHMENT)
Ah...
FRIAR:
(WHILE THE OTHERS LISTEN AND LAUGH)
So I'm going to hang my trap from the ceiling, high up like a chandelier ...
PORTER:
(WINKING AT THE TRAVELER AND GEORGE SAND)
Isn't he clever!
FRIAR:
You'll see if he doesn't fall into it like an idiot ...
(LAUGHS WITH THE OTHERS)
The whole trap is built with solid wire ...
(CONFIDENTIAL)
... which I got from the fence of the monastery ...
(PUTS HIS FINGER ACROSS HIS LIPS)
But please, don't say a word about this ...
GEORGE SAND:
Don't worry. I won't say a word until we arrive in Paris. Then Mallarmè can use it for a drama.
FRIAR:
Last night he took my shoes ...
(APOLOGETICALLY)
That's why I'm going about barefooted. Please, forgive me.
TRAVELER:
It doesn't matter. With or without shoes, you are our friend.
FRIAR:
Thank you .. And now if you'll excuse me ...
TRAVELER: (LEAVES THE ROOM)
PORTER:
A queer duck, that one!
GEORGE SAND:
Do you know him?
PORTER:
(STARTED TO GO)
And who doesn't? He's been telling that story about the [unclear: his life] ... He'd better be on our way...
ghost and the shoes for over thirty years.
TRAVELER:
Is he really mad?
PORTER:
It depends on the wind: when the north wind blows, it is impossible to talk to him; but with the wind blowing from the south he is reasonable and even sensible. He was studying for the priesthood ...
GEORGE SAND:
(SUDDENLY INTERESTED)
And then what happened?
PORTER:
He left the seminary to run after a woman. When she deserted him, he went out of his mind and came here ...
TRAVELER:
To do penance?
PORTER:
To ask the friars to let him say mass. And he has been waiting all this time for their permission.
GEORGE SAND:
(STARTING TO GO)
It's late ... We'd better be on our way...
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
We went back to Paris. I took an apartment and she returned to her house at Mohan. Life was hell for me. Year after year I was consumed by jealousy, much more than by my cough. She published a book --Lucrezia Floriani-- which brought me even closer to my grave. One day she paid me a visit at my apartment ...
(SCENE)
GEORGE SAND:
Are you alone?
TRAVELER:
Alone as usual.
GEORGE SAND:
Do you feel better?
TRAVELER:
(DOES NOT ANSWER HER QUESTION, BUT TAKES SOME GALLEYS FROM A DESK AND HANDS THEM TO HER)
Here are the proofs of your book. I've read them ...
GEORGE SAND:
What do you think of it?
TRAVELER:
I want to thank you for the role you have assigned me under the name of Prince Karol, ill and destined to die...
GEORGE SAND:
(CONQUETTISHLY)
A likeable character, however...
TRAVELER:
A delightful character, even if he ruins the life of a woman who must sacrifice herself for him.
GEORGE SAND:
(CAUSTICALLY)
It happens all the time. It's the truth. And the truth should not hurt.
TRAVELER:
You are right. What hurts, however, is the treachery of the nurse, who after being a martyr turns into an executioner.
GEORGE SAND:
Your allusions can't reach me. I have always had for you the affection and devotion of a sister.
TRAVELER:
(SARCASTICALLY)
That's why today I am the happiest and healthiest of men.
GEORGE SAND:
(ANGRILY)
I'm going..There is no point in having another scene...
TRAVELER:
(WITH A SUDDEN CHANGE OF ATTITUDE)
No, I beg you, don't go Aurora, my Aurora...
GEORGE SAND:
(LOOKS AT HIM IN SURPRISE)
Why should I stay?
TRAVELER:
Because I need you. Because my heart, my soul, my whole being are longing for you.
(HE TAKES HER IN HIS ARMS)
You are my love, my only love. Please, don't hurt me any more...
GEORGE SAND:
You are hurting yourself, with your suspicions, your jealousy.
TRAVELER:
If I'm jealous it's because I love you... But I'll try not to be. Perhaps I may still recover my peace of mind perhaps I may even be able to work again.
GEORGE SAND:
(FREEING HERSELF FROM HIS EMBRACE)
Our temperaments are too incompatible, we are two rebels: I am a rebel against society, you are a rebel against destiny. We shall never be happy together.
TRAVELER:
That is not so, Aurora. We were happy once: why shouldn't we be happy again?
GEORGE SAND:
Because this is just a mirage: life never plays the same game twice.
TRAVELER:
A game? You call it a game? I have given up everything, betrayed everybody for you: my country, my people, my art, my life itself ... Don't you realize what a state I am in?
GEORGE SAND:
I do realize it. And that's exactly why I say that each of us must go his own way...
(PAUSES BRIEFLY)
I already have done so.
TRAVELER:
(BITTERLY)
I know you have, I have watched you turn indifferent, cynical, almost an enemy ...
GEORGE SAND:
Do you reproach me for not being able to pretend?
TRAVELER:
No, I reproach you for not being able to love, for not being faithful to those you love... or say you love...
(AFTER A PAUSE HE SEEMS CALMER? ALMOST RESIGNED)
Now you can go. Two people are too many to be waiting for death to come...
(HE LETS HIMSELF FALL ON A CHAIR: HE IS PALE, EXHAUSTED, PANTING)
.....One is enough...
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
My friends tried to make me forget, I even gave some concerts again. But I went from one concert hall to the next, like a corpse looking for an undertaker...
(SCENE: A CONCERT HALL, PACKED TO CAPACITY.
THE AUDIENCE IS APPLAUDING)
Until one day I remembered a name...
(SCENE: MISS STIRLING'S HOUSE)
TRAVELER:
I went once to her house at Epsom, then to your apartment. Is Miss Stirling at home?
MAID:
Yes, sir. Please come in
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
I was shown to the drawing room, and when I saw her she looked younger and more beautiful than ever. I thought: "If only I could have loved her!..."
MISS STERLING:
Maestro!... What a delightfull surprise!...
TRAVELER:
Forgive me for not writing you, for not coming to see you before...
MISS STERLING:
Never mind that. You are here now. Sit down...
(SHE MAKES ROOM FOR HIM ON THE SOFA NEXT TO HER)
I tried several times to see you, but she never let me in.
TRAVELER:
You mean George Sand?
MISS STERLING:
(NODS)
I went once to her house at Nohant, then to your apartment on Rue de...
TRAVELER:
(INTERRUPTS HER)
No one ever told me...
MISS STIRLING:
I don't doubt it... but that's all in the past... let's talk about something else...
TRAVELER:
(JUMPS AT HER SUGGESTION)
Yes, let's talk about something else... Tell me about yourself...
MISS STIRLING:
There is really little to tell, except that I am about to go back to England.
TRAVELER:
(PAINFULLY SURPRISED)
OH... And may I ask you why?
MISS STIRLING:
I've given up my dream of an artistic career...
TRAVELER:
(GUILTILY)
I am sorry...
(HE TURNS AWAY FROM HER AND STARES INTO NOTHINGNESS)
MISS STIRLING:
Art is no comforter... You must already be comforted to enjoy art...
TRAVELER:
(STILL ABSORBED AND STARING INTO EMPTINESS)
Perhaps you are right... Perhaps you have said a great truth... In order to enter heaven, you must first have heaven in your own soul...
MISS STIRLING:
(TRYING TO CHANGE THE TREND OF HIS THOUGHTS)
But, what about you... Tell me, what are your plans?
TRAVELER:
To forget... If possible.
MISS STIRLING:
Have you written anything new?
TRAVELER:
No. It's been years since I have written a note. Not since Majorca. I could even tell you the exact date; it was the day when I found a dead nightingale on the floor of my cell. He had stopped singing... and I...
(MAKES A GESTURE OF DESPAIR)
MISS STIRLING:
May I ask a question... make a suggestion?
TRAVELER:
(DOES NOT REPLY)
MISS STIRLING:
Why don't you come with me to England?
TRAVELER:
(LOOKS UP AT HER BUT DOES NOT ANSWER)
MISS STIRLING:
I once mentioned to some friends the possibility of your giving some concerts in London. They have been expecting you ever since...
TRAVELER:
It's too late. I am ill... and so tired.
MISS STIRLING:
(ENDEAVORING TO BREAK DOWN HIS RESISTANCE)
Please... I am sure it would do you a world of good. It would be a distraction--a new country, a new environment...
(WARMLY)
Oh, how happy I should be if you accepted... I should feel I had done something fine... that all these years had not been wasted after all...
(FADE)
TRAVELER'S VOICE:
I made her happy. I went to London, but I found neither health nor peace. The eyes of George Sand pursued me wherever I went, and I cursed her and worshipped her. When I went back to Paris, the doctor ordered me to stay in bed... I never got up again.
(SCENE: A PRIEST LEAVES THE ROOM OF THE DYING MAN AND CLOSES THE DOOR BEHIND HIM)
PRIEST:
(TO THE FEW PEOPLE WAITING IN THE HALL)
Pray for him...
(FADE)
(THE FIRST SCENE: THE TWO ANGELS ARE AT THEIR DESK NEAR THE GATE)
FIRST ANGEL:
What is he doing that he doesn't come back?
SECOND ANGEL:
(LAYS HIS PEN ON THE DESK AND LOOKS TOWARDS THE HOUSE OF MEMORIES)
You had better go and see...
FIRST ANGEL:
(RISES AND ENTERS THE HOUSE WHERE THE TRAVELER IS WATCHING THE IMAGES IN THE MIRRORS)
Well, have you made your choice?
TRAVELER:
(STARTLED BACK TO REALITY)
No, in fact I haven't ... This has been like living my whole life over again ...
FIRST ANGEL:
But you must hurry ...
(INDICATES THE DOOR)
There are others waiting to come in ...
TRAVELER:
I shall ... I'll choose right away ...
FIRST ANGEL:
Don't be long ...
(LEAVES THE HOUSE)
TRAVELER:
(REMAINS ALONE ONCE MORE IN THE HOUSE OF MEMORIES. EPISODES FROM HIS LIFE KEEP FLASHING BEFORE HIS EYES. BUT IN EVERY MIRROR, NO MATTER WHAT IMAGES IT REFLECTS, THE EYES OF GEORGE SAND STARE AT HIM IN THE BACKGROUND: LOVING EYES, VOLUPTUOUS EYES, IRONIC EYES, LAUGHING EYES, THREATENING EYES ... HAUNTING HIM, AS IF THEY SOUGHT TO BLOT OUT ALL HIS OTHER MEMORIES ... FINALLY HE MAKES HIS
CHOICE, AND LEAVES THE HOUSE, CROSSING A LONG LINE OF SOULS, AWAITING THEIR TURN TO GET IN... THEN RESOLUTELY HE WALKS TOWARDS THE ANGELS AT THE GATE.)
I have chosen...
FIRST ANGEL:
Let me see...
(LOOKS SEARCHINGLY INTO THE TRAVELER'S EYES)
All right. You may go in.
TRAVELER:
(ENTERS THE GATE AND DISAPPEARS)
FIRST ANGEL:
Do you know what he took with him?
SECOND ANGEL:
(LOOKS UP FROM THE BOOK IN WHICH HE IS WRITING)
FIRST ANGEL:
The memory of a dead nightingale.
SECOND ANGEL:
(SHAKING HIS HEAD)
Who is he?
FIRST ANGEL:
(READS IN HIS BOOK)
Chopin.
SECOND ANGEL:
Who?
FIRST ANGEL:
A musician. Frederic Chopin.
THE END
