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قراءة كتاب Roses: Four One-Act Plays Streaks of Light—The Last Visit—Margot—The Far-away Princess

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Roses: Four One-Act Plays
Streaks of Light—The Last Visit—Margot—The Far-away Princess

Roses: Four One-Act Plays Streaks of Light—The Last Visit—Margot—The Far-away Princess

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 2

you now.


Julia.

He never has time for me!--And the meals that his wife cooks are simply abominable!--And the wine is always warm!--Do, for mercy's sake, steal the key to the icehouse!


Pierre.

But you know that I can't!--I always bring you all the ice that I can manage to take from the table. If I insist upon having the key, the housekeeper will tell mamma.


Julia.

But I won't drink warm wine--so there! That's what gives me these headaches.


Pierre.

Your headaches, I want to tell you, come from the roses. Ugh!--this nasty smell from the withered ones--sour--like stale tobacco smoke--why, it burns the brains out of one's head!


Julia.

See here, dearie, you let the roses alone! That was our agreement, you know--basketsful, every morning! I wish the gardener would bring even more! That's what he's bribed for.--More! More! Always more!


Pierre.

See here, if you were only reasonable----


Julia.

But I'm not reasonable! O you--you-- (She holds out her arms to him. He comes to her. They kiss.) More!--More!--No end!--Ah, to die!----


Pierre (freeing himself).

Oh!


Julia.

To die!


Pierre (with hidden scorn).

Yes--to die. (Yawning nervously.) Pardon me!--It's as hot as an oven in here.


Julia.

And the shutters are always closed! For eight long days I've seen nothing of the sun except these streaks of light. Do open the shutters--just once!


Pierre.

For Heaven's sake!


Julia.

Just for a second!


Pierre.

But don't you realize that the pavilion is locked and that not a soul ever crosses the threshold?


Julia.

Oh, yes, I know--because your lovely, reckless great-grandmother lost her life here a hundred years ago! That's one of those old-wives' tales that everyone knows.--Who can tell? Perhaps my fate will be the same as hers.--But do open the shutters!


Pierre.

Do be reasonable! You know that in order to come in here by the side door without being seen I have to crawl through the woods for a hundred yards. The same performance twice a day--for a week! Now, if I should open the shutters and one of the gardener's men should see it, why, he'd come, and then----


Julia.

Let him come! I'll smile at him--and he's no man if he doesn't keep quiet after that! Why, your old gardener would cut his hand off for me any day of his life--just for a bit of wheedling!--It can't be helped--they all love me!


Pierre (aside).

Beast!


Julia.

What were you muttering then? (Pierre throws himself down before her and weeps.) Pierre! Crying?--Oh!--Please don't--or I'll cry too. And my head aches so!


Pierre (softly but nervously and with hatred).

Do you know what I'd like to do? Strangle you!


Julia.

Ha! Ha! Ha!--(pityingly) Dear me! Those soft fingers--so weak!--My little boy has read in a naughty book that people strangle their loves--and so he wants to do some strangling too!


Pierre (rising).

Well, what's to become of you? How much longer is the game to last in this pavilion?


Julia.

As long as the roses bloom--that was agreed, you know.


Pierre.

And then?


Julia.

Bah! Then!--Why think of it? I'm here now, here under the protection of your lovely, ghostly great-grandmother. No one suspects--no one dreams! My husband is searching for me the whole world over!--That was a clever notion of mine--writing him from Brussels--Nora, last act, last scene--and then coming straight back again! I'll wager he's in Paris now, sitting at the Café des Anglais, and looking up and down the street--now toward the Place de l'Opera, now toward the Madeleine. Will you wager? I'll go you anything you say. Well, go on, wager!


Pierre.

On anything else you wish--but not on that!


Julia.

Why not?


Pierre.

Because your husband was at the castle this morning.


Julia (rising hastily).

My husband--was--at the castle----?


Pierre.

What's so surprising about that? He always used to come, you know--our nearest neighbour--and all that sort of thing.


Julia.

Did he have a reason for coming?


Pierre.

A special reason?--No.


Julia.

Pierre--you're concealing something from me!


Pierre (hesitating).

Nothing that I know of. No.


Julia.

Why didn't you come at once? And now--why have you waited to tell me?


Pierre (sullenly).

You're hearing it soon enough.


Julia.

Pierre, what happened? Tell me, exactly!


Pierre.

Well, he came in the little runabout--without a groom--and asked for mamma. I naturally pretended to be going out. But you know how she always insists on my staying with her.


Julia.

And how was he was he--just the same as ever?


Pierre.

Oh, no, I wouldn't say that.


Julia.

How did he look? Tell me, tell me!


Pierre.

In the first place, he wore black gloves--like a gravedigger.


Julia.

Ha! Ha! And what else?


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