The Tragedy of Mister Morn, Page 3

  it is my blood which has cried out in you,

  my greedy blood…

  ELLA [preparing the medicine]:

  One drop… two drops… five,

  six… seven… Enough?

  TREMENS:

  Yes. Get dressed,

  go… it’s late… Wait—stoke the fire…

  ELLA:

  Coals, coals, you blushing hearts… Fain burn!

  [looks at herself in the mirror]

  How is my hair? I’ll wear a gold gauze dress.

  I am going…

  [On her way out, she stops.]

  … Oh, Klian brought me

  his poems the other day; he sings them

  so amusingly, flaring his nostrils slightly,

  closing his eyes—like this, look—his palm

  stroking the air as if it were a little

  dog…

  [Exits, laughing.]

  TREMENS:

  My greedy blood… And yet her mother

  was so trusting and so tender; yes,

  tender and cleaving, like pollen, drifting

  through the air, onto my chest… Off with you,

  you sunny piece of fluff!… Thank you, Death,

  that you took this tenderness away from me:

  free am I, free and reckless… Henceforth,

  my servant Death, shall we oft agree… O,

  I will send you out into this very night,

  into those blazing windows above dark mounds

  of snow; into those houses where life

  twirls and dances… But I must wait…

  It is not time yet… I must wait.

  [Falls asleep. There is a knock at the door.]

  TREMENS [shaking off sleep]:

  Come in!…

  SERVANT:

  There is, my lord, a man out there—a dark,

  bedraggled man—he wants to see you…

  TREMENS:

  His name?

  SERVANT:

  He won’t say.

  TREMENS:

  Let him in.

  [SERVANT exits. A MAN enters through the open door and stops on the threshold.]

  TREMENS:

  What do you want?

  MAN [slowly grinning]:

  … And still

  the same spotted blanket on his shoulders…

  TREMENS [looks closer at him]:

  Forgive me… my eyes are bleary… but,

  I do recognize, I recognize… Yes,

  for certain… Is it you,—you? Ganus?

  GANUS:

  You weren’t expecting me? My friend, my leader,

  my Tremens, you weren’t expecting me? …

  TREMENS:

  Four years, Ganus!…

  GANUS:

  Four years? Not years,

  but stony boulders! Rocks, hard labour,

  loneliness—and then—an indescribable

  escape!… Tell me, how is my wife, Midia?

  TREMENS:

  She lives, she lives… Yes, I recognize you,

  friend—the same Ganus, quick as fire,

  the same passion in your speech and movements…

  So you fled? And… what of the others?

  GANUS:

  I escaped—they still languish… You know,

  I came to you, like the wind—straight away,

  I’ve not yet been home… So you say, Midia…

  TREMENS:

  Listen, Ganus, I need to explain to you…

  It is strange that the main rebel leader… No, no,

  don’t interrupt me! In truth, is it not strange

  that I am free, when I know that my friends

  suffer in black exile? I live just as before:

  rumour does not name me; I’m still the same

  twisted and secret leader… But believe me,

  I did everything to burn in hell with you—

  when they seized you all, I, incorruptible,

  wrote a denunciation against Tremens…

  Two days went by, on the third day I received

  an answer. What was it? Well, listen: it was,

  I remember, a dull and windy evening. I was

  too lazy to put on the lights. It was growing

  dark. I sat here and shook with fever,

  rippling like a reflection in an ice-hole.

  Ella had not yet returned from school. Suddenly—

  a knock, and a man enters; his face obscured

  in shadow, his voice muffled, as though it too

  were tinged with darkness. Ganus, you are

  not listening!…

  GANUS:

  My friend, my dear friend,

  you can tell me this later. I’m agitated,

  I cannot follow. I want to forget, forget

  all this—the smoke of revolutionary

  conversation, the backstreets in the night…

  Advise me, what shall I do: go to Midia now,

  or wait? Oh, don’t be angry! Don’t!…

  Please, go on…

  TREMENS:

  Understand, Ganus, I must

  explain! There are more important things

  than earthly love…

  GANUS:

  …And so, this stranger…

  tell me…

  TREMENS:

  …was very strange. Quietly

  he approached me: “The King has read your letter

  and thanks you for it,” he said, taking off

  his glove, and a smile, it seemed, slipped across

  his hazy face. “Yes…” the messenger

  continued, theatrically slapping his glove,

  “you are a clever conspirator, while the King

  punishes only the foolish; from this follows

  a conclusion, a challenge: walk free, magnet,

  and gather up, magnet, the scattered needles,

  the revolutionary souls, and when you gather them,

  we’ll sweep them up, and start again; so walk free,

  shine on, attract…” Ganus, you are not listening…

  GANUS:

  On the contrary, my friend, on the contrary…

  What happened next?

  TREMENS:

  Nothing. He left,

  calmly bowing… For a long time after, I stared

  at the door. Since then, I rage in passionate

  idleness… Since then I wait; I stubbornly await

  a blunder from the strained powers that be,

  so I can make a move… Four years I wait.

  I dream enormous dreams… Listen, the time

  is near! Listen, you living piece of steel,

  will you be drawn to me again? …

  GANUS:

  I don’t know…

  I don’t think so… You see, I… But Tremens,

  you haven’t told me about my Midia!

  What does she do?

  TREMENS:

  Her? She strays.

  GANUS:

  How dare you, Tremens! I must confess

  I am unused to your blaspheming words—

  and I will not tolerate…

  [ELLA has appeared, unnoticed, in the doorway.]

  TREMENS:

  …in other times

  you would have laughed… My right-hand man—

  hard, clear, and free—has become tender,

  like an ageing maid…

  GANUS:

  Tremens, forgive me,

  if I misunderstood your joke, but you

  do not know, you do not know… I have

  suffered greatly… The wind in the reeds

  whispered to me of adultery. I prayed. I bribed

  my creeping doubts with forced memories,

  with the most winged, the most sacred ones,

  which lose their colour as they fly into words,

  and now, suddenly…

  ELLA [approaching]:

  Of course he was joking!

  TREMENS:

  Eavesdropping, eh?

  ELLA:


  No. I’ve long known—

  you love equivocating little words,

  riddles, that’s all…

  TREMENS [to ganus]:

  Do you recognize my daughter?

  GANUS:

  What, surely it can’t be—Ella? That girl

  who always lay spread out with a book, here

  on this fur, while we reduced worlds to ashes? …

  ELLA:

  And you would blaze louder than the rest,

  and smoke so much, sometimes, it seemed there were

  not people but ghosts dancing in the grey-blue

  waves… But how did you return?

  GANUS:

  I stunned

  two sentries with a log and wandered lost

  for half a year… And now, having finally

  arrived, the fugitive dares not enter

  his own home…

  ELLA:

  I go there often.

  GANUS:

  How nice…

  ELLA:

  Yes, I am very friendly with your wife.

  Many a time in your dark drawing room

  have we spoken of your bitter fate. In truth,

  sometimes it was hard for me: for no one

  knows that my father…

  GANUS:

  I understand…

  ELLA:

  Often,

  in soundless splendour, she cried, as you know

  Midia cries—silently and without blinking…

  In the summer, we strolled in the city outskirts,

  where you had strolled with her… Recently,

  she told your fortune by looking at the moon

  through a glass of wine… I’ll tell you more:

  this very evening I’m going to a party

  at her house—there will be dancing, poets…

  [points to TREMENS]

  Look, he has dozed off…

  GANUS:

  A party—

  but without me…

  ELLA:

  Without you?

  GANUS:

  I am

  an outlaw: if they catch me, I’m done for…

  Listen, I’ll write a note—you can give it

  to her, and I’ll wait downstairs for an answer…

  ELLA [twirling around]:

  I’ve got it! I’ve got it! How splendid!

  You see, I study at a theatre school,

  I have paints and pomades here in seven

  different colours… I’ll smear your face in such

  a way that God himself, on Judgement Day,

  won’t recognize you! Well, do you want to?

  GANUS:

  Yes… It’s just that…

  ELLA:

  I’ll simply say

  that you’re an actor, an acquaintance of mine,

  and haven’t taken off your make-up—

  because it was so good… Perfect! It’s not

  up for discussion! Sit down here, closer

  to the light. That’s good. You shall be Othello—

  the curly-haired, old, dark-skinned Moor.

  I’ll also give you my father’s frock-coat

  and black gloves…

  GANUS:

  How amusing: Othello

  in a frock-coat!…

  ELLA:

  Sit still.

  TREMENS [grimacing, he wakes up]:

  Oh… I think

  I fell asleep… Have you both lost your minds?

  ELLA:

  He cannot see his wife otherwise.

  There will be guests there after all.

  TREMENS:

  Strange:

  I dreamt that the King was being strangled

  by a colossal negro…

  ELLA:

  I think our chance

  remarks seeped into your dream, got mixed up

  with your thoughts…

  TREMENS:

  Ganus, what do you suppose,

  will it be long?… will it be long? …

  GANUS:

  What? …

  ELLA:

  Don’t move your lips, talk of the King can

  wait a little…

  TREMENS:

  The King, the King, the King!

  Everything is full of him: the people’s souls,

  the air, and it is said that in the clouds

  at sunrise, it is his coat-of-arms that shines,

  and not the dawn. Meanwhile, no one knows

  what he looks like. On coins he wears a mask.

  They say, he walks amongst the crowds, sharp-sighted

  and unrecognized, throughout the city,

  in the market places.

  ELLA:

  I’ve seen him ride

  to the senate, accompanied by horsemen.

  The carriage gleams all over in blue lacquer.

  On the door there is a crown, and in

  the window the blind is lowered…

  TREMENS:

  … and, I think,

  inside there’s no one. Our King walks

  on foot… And the blue lustre and the black steeds

  are for show. He is a fraud, our King!

  He should be…

  GANUS:

  Stop, Ella, you have

  put paint in my eye… May I speak…

  ELLA:

  Yes,

  you may. I will look for a wig…

  GANUS:

  Tell me, Tremens,

  I don’t understand: what do you want?

  While wandering through the country I have

  noticed that in four years of radiant peace—

  after wars and revolutions—the country

  has grown wonderfully strong. And the King

  alone achieved all this. What then do you want?

  New upheavals? But why? The power of the King

  is living and harmonious, it moves me now

  like music… I too find it strange, but I

  have understood that to rebel is criminal.

  TREMENS [rising slowly]:

  What did you say? Did I mishear? Ganus,

  you… repent, regret, and practically

  give thanks for your punishment!

  GANUS:

  No.

  For the sorrows of my heart, for the tears

  of my Midia, I will never forgive the King.

  But, consider: while we were declaiming

  grand words—on the oppressed, on poverty

  and the suffering of the people—the King

  himself was already acting in our stead…

  TREMENS [walks heavily around the room, drumming his fingers on the furniture as he passes]:

  Hang on, hang on! Did you really think

  that I worked with such determination

  for the good of an imaginary “people”?

  So that every manure-filled soul, some

  drunken goldsmith or another, some gnarled

  stable-boy could polish his dainty nails

  up to a mirror sheen, and bend his little

  finger back in affectation, when shaking

  off his snot? No, you were mistaken!…

  ELLA:

  Move your head to the right a little… I’ll pull

  the astrakhan fur on for you…

  Papa,

  sit down, I beg you… You are dizzying me

  with your movements.

  TREMENS:

  You were mistaken!

  Revolts there may have been, Ganus… Time and again,

  in city squares across the ages, have gathered

  low-browed criminality, mediocrity,

  and baseness… Their words I was repeating,

  but I meant something more—and I had thought

  that through those blunt words you felt my true fire,

  and that your fire answered mine. But now,

  your flame has tapered, it has turned to passion

  for a woman… I feel great pity for you.

  GANUS:

&
nbsp; But what is it you want? Ella, don’t get

  in the way while I’m talking…

  TREMENS:

  Did you see,

  one windy night, by moonlight, the shadows

  of ruins? That is the ultimate beauty—

  and towards it I lead the world.

  ELLA:

  Don’t protest…

  Sit still!… Press your lips together. A little

  touch of arrogance… There. Some carmine

  inside the nostrils—no, don’t sneeze! Passion—

  in the nostrils. Now yours are like those

  of Arabian horses. There we go.

  Please be quiet. After all, my father

  is absolutely right.

  TREMENS:

  You say:

  the King is a great sorcerer. Agreed.

  The sun has swollen the taut granaries,

  the wonders of science are accessible to all,

  labour is lightened by the play of hidden forces,

  and the air is clean in the warbling workshops—

  with all this I agree. But why do we

  always want to grow, to climb uphill

  from one to a thousand, when the downward path—

  from one to zero—is faster and sweeter? Life

  itself is the example—it rushes headlong

  into ash, it destroys everything in its way:

  first it gnaws through the umbilical cord,

  then tears up plants and birds into shreds,

  and our heart beats inside us like a greedy hoof,

  till it smashes through our chest… And the poet,

  who breaks up his thoughts into sounds? Or

  the maiden, who prays for the blow of a man’s love?

  Everything, Ganus, is destruction. And

  the faster it is, the sweeter, the sweeter…

  ELLA:

  Now

  for the frock-coat, the gloves—and you’re ready!

  Really, Othello, I am pleased with you…

  [declaims]

  “But yet I fear you; for you are fatal then

  when your eyes roll so: why should I fear I know not,

  since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel fear…”

  Oh, your boots are shabby—well, never mind…

  GANUS:

  Thank you, Desdemona…

  [looking at himself in the mirror]

  Well, look at me!

  It’s been a while, it’s been a while… Midia…

  a masquerade… Lights, perfume… quick, quick!

  Hurry, Ella!

  ELLA:

  We’re going, we’re going…

  TREMENS:

  So,

  you’ve decided to betray me, my friend?

  GANUS:

  Don’t, Tremens! We’ll talk some other time…

  It’s hard for me to argue now… Perhaps

  you are right. Farewell, dear friend… You

  understand…

  ELLA:

  I won’t be late…

  TREMENS:

  Go, go.

  Klian has long been cursing you, himself

  and everything else. Ganus, don’t forget…

  GANUS:

  Hurry up, hurry up, Ella…

  [They leave together.]