[Puts up hands as if to ward off danger.]
A quickening? A something here? Ah, no!
Have pity!
Young Man with a Glove.
Have pity! Come ... to life! Come back to life,
I should have said!
Woman at her Toilet.
I should have said! Heaven, be merciful!
For us there is no life—there never was!
What man and woman sat for us, long since
Are dust, their souls with God!
Young Man with a Glove.
Are dust, their souls with God! Then what are we?
Woman at her Toilet.
Poor simulacra only, that reveal,
By grace of art, life to the living, yet
Have none ourselves. Half-lengths—’Tis all we are!—
Below the frame-line we are just inferred—
As Titian would have rendered us, as ’twere,
From waist to toe!—By lifelikeness beguiled,
If life’s forbidden fruit to taste we seek,
We perish!
Young Man with a Glove.
We perish! Then, what woman meant you now?
Woman at her Toilet.
Poor fool adoringly long hours who spends
Before you at her easel!
[Pointing to Laura’s copy.]
Young Man with a Glove.
[Laughs.]
Before you at her easel! Oh, ta, ta!
[Examines copy.]
Ye shades of Titian, what a travesty!
Woman at her Toilet.
E’en as the call of life to you and me
To be forever blotted out would mean,
One step across the line, her world from ours
Dividing, for that girl spells madness!
Young Man with a Glove.
[Shocked at the idea.]
Dividing, for that girl spells madness! Oh!
Though mortals rank a race inferior
To art-creations—
Woman at her Toilet.
To art-creations— I should say so!
Young Man with a Glove.
To art-creations— I should say so! Still,
Their suffrage ’tis on us confers our claim
To immortality! Sooner than harm
A hair on silly head of one, then, I
Could wish myself a landscape, seapiece, aye,
Truncated cherub, even! anything
But what I am!
Woman at her Toilet.
[Applauding.]
But what I am! Oh, worthy of our School!
[Voices are heard on the left.]
But, hark! Quick! Quick! Back to our frames!
[The two hurriedly return to their places, the Woman going to the right, the Young Man getting into his frame.]
[The Glove Young Man enters from the right.]
Glove Young Man.
Laura! Hey, Laura!... Why, they said I sure
Should find her here! I must have lost my way
Again.
[Gardien passes through from left to right.]
Again. Conductor!
Gardien.
Again. Conductor! Eh, m’sieur?
Glove Young Man.
Is this Saloon carre?
[Mispronouncing.]
Gardien.
[Enquiringly.]
Is this Saloon carre? M’sieur?
Glove Young Man.
Is this Saloon carre? M’sieur? Or words
To that effect?
Gardien.
[Shrugs shoulders, deprecating inability to understand.]
M’sieur!
[Passes on.]
Glove Young Man.
I give it up!
[Sits, pushes hat on back of head, consults guide-book.]
The Husband.
[Entering from the right, followed by the wife.]
I give it up! We’ll cut the rest. We’ve seen
Enough to say we’ve seen them! And go get
A cup of tea, if decent tea is found
In Paris!
The Wife.
In Paris! I should like a bun, if one
Can find one!
The Husband.
[Dogmatically.]
Can find one! Bun is a French word.
I’ve heard it frequently!
The Wife.
I’ve heard it frequently! But bun in French
Does not mean English bun!
The Husband.
[With finality.]
Does not mean English bun! In English, French,—
In any language bun means bun! What else
Could bun mean, except bun—just bun!
Glove Young Man.
[Closes guide-book, rising.]
Since English doesn’t work
I’ll try my French! Ahem! Pardon, monsieur!
Comprenez-vous anglais?
[Speaking laboriously.]
The Husband.
Comprenez-vous anglais? Certainly not!
How dare you ask me! Come!
[Leads wife away, to the left.]
Glove Young Man.
How dare you ask me! Come! I give it up!
[Sinks back on bench.]
Elderly Party.
[Entering from the left with Young Woman.]
How dare you ask me! Come! I give it up! They’re very fine,
No doubt, but give me cheerful art, like Pigs
In Clover, Dancing in a Barn. Or things
That make you cry. Last Days of Pompeii!
Pictures of common things, home-folks you know!
That’s my style!
Young Woman.
[Protesting.]
Auntie! Shocking! This is ART!
Glove Young Man.
Guess I’ll try my French on this bunch!... Hem!
Parlez-vous Français, s’il vous plaît, Madame?
Young Woman.
[Explaining to the Elderly Party in undertone.]
I think he’s asking you in French if you
Speak French!
Elderly Party.
[Flustered, asks Young Woman.]
Speak French! Do I speak French or do I not?
And how in French shall I tell him if I
Speak French or not?
Young Woman.
Speak French or not? Leave him to me!
[Gets out conversation manual.]
“Non, ma chere marraine, le soldat n’as pas avalé le tisonier, mais la femme du boulanger a un petit chien chinois.”
[Slowly, reading.]
Glove Young Man.
Fine day, indeed, as you remark!... I give it up!
[He is about to go, when the Elderly Party recognizes him.]
Elderly Party.
Ef it ain’t Charley Black!
Young Woman.
Ef it ain’t Charley Black! Why, so it is!
Why, Charley!
Glove Young Man.
Why, Charley! Mrs. Johnson! Mandy! This
Is great!
[They shake hands.]
Elderly Party.
Is great! What brings you here?
Young Woman.
Is great! What brings you here? ART, same as us,
Of course!
Glove Young Man.
Not on your life. For one thing, gloves.
I’m buyer for our firm, you know. And, next,
The usual thing.
Young Woman.
The usual thing. A girl!
Glove Young Man.
The usual thing. A girl! The girl! She’s here
Somewhereabouts, messing with paint!
Young Woman.
Somewhereabouts, messing with paint! Maybe
I know her. Reddish hair and rather plain?
Glove Young Man.
Hair auburn. Girl a peach!... Why, there she is!
Laura!
[Looking toward the left.]
Laura! Laura, dear!
Elderly Party.
[Making signs to Young Woman, and going away, right.]
Two’s company.
Young Woman.
[Following, looks back, appraising Laura.]
Two’s company. Distinctly red, and plain!
Laura.
[Coldly.]
Charles, this is a surprise!
Glove Young Man.
Charles, this is a surprise! Intended so!
But, say a joyful one!
Laura.
But, say a joyful one! I—I—My breath
You’ve stolen!
Glove Young Man.
[Trying to kiss her.]
You’ve stolen! Sweetheart! Let me give it back!
Laura.
[Repulsing him.]
So public!
Glove Young Man.
[Looking about.]
So public! Not a soul in sight. Unless
You count that guy there!
[Indicating portrait.]
Laura.
You count that guy there! Mr. Black! I beg,
Insist, that you withdraw....
Glove Young Man.
[Puzzled.]
Insist, that you withdraw.... What, guy?
Laura.
[Shudders.]
Insist, that you withdraw.... What, guy? The word,
Also your person, from this Presence!
Glove Young Man.
Also your person, from this Presence! What
In thunder do you mean!
Laura.
[Teeth on edge.]
Thunder, indeed!
[She resumes her painting. Puzzled and discomfited, the Glove Young Man sits on the bench.]
Glove Young Man.
[After a pause.]
Delightful weather. Though a thunderstorm
Seems in the air!
[Another pause.]
Seems in the air! Not a bad-looking guy....
Beg pardon!
[Rises and bows to the portrait.]
Beg pardon! Individual!
And, from his sample there, he carries quite
As fine a line of gloves as I myself!
Laura.
[Rises, shrieks, waving paint-brush.]
Creature!
Glove Young Man.
Referring to yours truly?
Laura.
Referring to yours truly? Aye!
Begone!
Glove Young Man.
[Unable to believe it.]
Begone means Git? Skidoo?
Laura.
Begone means Git? Skidoo? Translate
As pleases you, but do it!
Glove Young Man.
[Looks at her in silence, then turns to go, but suddenly changes his mind.]
As pleases you, but do it! I’ll be hanged
If I.... What ails you, girl?
Laura.
If I.... What ails you, girl? I can’t explain.
Glove Young Man.
You loved me....
Laura.
You loved me.... Rather, thought I did!
Glove Young Man.
You loved me.... Rather, thought I did! Nonsense!
You loved me well enough to promise—Yes,
You promised.
Laura.
[Wildly.]
You promised. Spare me this remembrancing!
Glove Young Man.
What makes you talk so queerly!
Laura.
What makes you talk so queerly! Who are you
To comprehend, were I to tell!
Glove Young Man.
To comprehend, were I to tell! You try!
Poetry-stuff’s not my long suit, but I
Can do a lot of comprehending! Fire
Away!...
[Sits.]
Away!... Engagement’s off?
Laura.
Away!... Engagement’s off? It never was!
Glove Young Man.
What’s come between us? You’re the only girl
In all the world for me! And I am just
The same old Charley-boy you’ve always known!
Laura.
[Hands over ears, shudders, then apostrophizes picture.]
Forgive, O Masterpiece, this squalid scene!
Glove Young Man.
Why, where does he come in?
Laura.
[Takes a sudden resolution, and addresses Glove Young Man.]
Why, where does he come in? The I erstwhile
You knew no longer am the I you see!
Glove Young Man.
[Considers this.]
I’m getting it! Go on!
Laura.
I’m getting it! Go on! Into mine own
Came I, this very hour!
Glove Young Man.
Came I, this very hour! Yea, verily!
Go right ahead!
Laura.
Go right ahead! To me hath been vouchsafed
Behind the veil to glimpse, art’s face that screens
From gaze profane!
Glove Young Man.
[Airily.]
From gaze profane! I haven’t an idea
Where we are bound for, but we’re on the way!
Laura.
To-day I start upon a pilgrimage!
Glove Young Man.
[Starts up.]
Where ... where’s your ticket taken to?
Laura.
[Impressively.]
Where ... where’s your ticket taken to? This spot!
Glove Young Man.
She’s crazy!
[Falling back into seat.]
Laura.
She’s crazy! Standing here, shall I be drawn
Across the border-line dividing art
From life, as such as you conceive it!
Woman at her Toilet.
[Unseen, mournfully.]
From life, as such as you conceive it! Oh!
[Mournful echoes resound through the gallery.]
Laura.
[Listens, a moment, puzzled, then continues.]
Absorbed, as ’twere, in yonder dusky shades.
[Indicating portrait.]
Forth into sunlit groves the real I
Shall fare, and not alone! in Italy!
[The mournful exclamations are repeated with intensity.]
Glove Young Man.
[Wrought up to passion.]
She’s mad! This is your work, you villain, you!
[Throws his gloves into the face of the portrait.]
[Laura shrieks wildly; cries of indignation from all the pictures are heard. There is a flash of lightning, followed by a loud thunder-clap. Then the Young Man with a Glove and the Woman at her Toilet are seen in the foreground, together.]
Woman at her Toilet.
’Tis as I feared! Oh, save her!
Young Man with a Glove.
’Tis as I feared! Oh, save her! ... And ourselves!
[Together the two stand, arms upraised, appealing.]
Young Man with a Glove and Woman at her Toilet
O comrades! Ye Co-Masterpieces, here
Collected! In the sacred name of art
Avenge the insult that, offered to one,
Is offered to us all!
[Cries from Unseen Pictures of “We will!”]
Is offered to us all! Saints Michael, George,
Of Raphael....
The Two Saints.
Of Raphael.... Here! Here!
Young Man with a Glove.
Of Raphael.... Here! Here! Works of Poussin—!
Unseen Pictures.
Here!
Young Man with Gloves.
Correggios! Michelangelos! Rembrandts!
Da Vincis! Rubens’! Antony Van Dycks!
Paolo Veronese! Rembrandts!
[All answer to the roll-call.]
Help, in the name of Titian, and of art!
[There is a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a terrific thunder-clap. When the momentary darkness passes it is seen that the Young Man with a Glove and the Woman at her Toilet have disappeared; Laura is lying on the bench, swooning, or asleep, while the Glove Young Man is in the picture-pose, within the frame.]
Glove Young Man.
[After a pause, breaking his picture-pose, addresses an imaginary audience.]
Help, in the name of Titian, and of art! Yes, it’s me all right,
The same old Charley-boy you know! I can’t explain
My present straitened circumstances, but
I’m quite aware how foolish I must look!
Unseen Pictures.
[Menacingly, with a clash of swords.]
Hush!
Glove Young Man.
[Leaning forward, addresses them.]
Ladies, Gentlemen, and Landscapes!
This is an honor I did not expect!
But since ’tis thrust upon me....
Unseen Pictures.
But since ’tis thrust upon me.... Hush!
[As before.]
Glove Young Man.
I won’t hush!... May I smoke?... Oh, very well!
If no one wants to play.... But just you wait!
[Resumes picture-pose. Gardien passes through, right to left.]
Hey, Conductor! Stop this car! I want to get out! Conductor!
[Gardien passes on without noticing him. Pictures threaten as before. Elderly Party and Young Woman enter from the right.]
Elderly Party.
I wonder how them two young courtin’ folks
Is gittin’ on!... Say, Mandy, don’t this look
Like Charley Black!
[Staring at Glove Young Man.]
Glove Young Man.
[Raising hat.]
Oh, Mrs. Johnson! Mandy! How-de-do!
Would you mind calling up a messenger?
Of course I’m doing this for pleasure, but....
Elderly Party.
It is his living image!
Young Woman.
[Shocked.]
It is his living image! Charley Black,
Indeed? Why, Auntie, this is Art!
[They go out, left.]
Glove Young Man.
Indeed? Why, Auntie, this is Art! I’m art,
Am I? We’ll see!
Unseen Pictures.
Am I? We’ll see! Hush!
[The Husband and Wife enter from the left.]
The Husband.
[Looking about.]
Am I? We’ll see! Hush! This is the room
We started from. We’ve lost our way again!
These galleries are wretchedly mapped out!
I shall report....
Glove Young Man.
I shall report.... Beg pardon! I myself
Have lost my way, and so if you....
The Wife.
Have lost my way, and so if you.... My dear!
That portrait raised its hat to me!
The Husband.
That portrait raised its hat to me! What’s that?
How dare you, sir, take such a liberty!
[Shaking his fist at the Glove Young Man.]
The Wife.
I think he wants to know the time!... Quarter
To five!
[Consulting her watch, tells the Glove Young Man.]
Glove Young Man.
[Groans.]
To five! What, nearly time to close!
The Wife.
To five! What, nearly time to close! My dear,
He’s telling us it’s nearly time to close!
Most civil of him!
The Husband.
Most civil of him! A disgrace to Art!
I should report the matter if I knew
To whom such matters are reported! Come!
[Leading the Wife away to the right.]
The Wife.
[Bowing politely to the Glove Young Man.]
Most civil!
Glove Young Man.
[Groans. Unseen Pictures cry, “Hush!” He then shouts.]
Help! Help! Police!
[Again the Pictures silence him. From the left the German Lady returns, and from the right the Youngest Pupil.]
Youngest Pupil.
Help! Help! Police! I want to see
If he’s come back!
[The German Lady begins, “Ach Wunder—” but breaks off, rubbing her eyes.]
Youngest Pupil.
If he’s come back! Oh, it’s someone else!
Teacher.
You’re dreaming! It’s the same!
Class.
You’re dreaming! It’s the same! Of course it is!
Youngest Pupil.
He’s changed his clothes, then!
Glove Young Man.
He’s changed his clothes, then! Dear young lady, I
Am Charley Black. This is my business card.
If you would be so kind....
Youngest Pupil.
If you would be so kind.... Oh! He’s alive!
Teacher.
He can’t be!
Youngest Pupil.
He can’t be! But he is! Aren’t you alive?
Glove Young Man.
I am, indeed; the livest ever. Though
That’s not exactly news to me!
Youngest Pupil.
That’s not exactly news to me! He is!
He says he is himself!
Teacher.
[Leading the Youngest Pupil away, right.]
He says he is himself! He can’t be! If
He were ’twould say so here in Baedeker!
Class.
Of course!
Glove Young Man.
Of course! This grows monotonous!
[Notices German Lady still gazing at him, puzzled.]
Of course! This grows monotonous! Although
Not introduced, if you would be so kind—
German Lady.
[Shrieks, running away to the left.]
Ach, du lieber....
Glove Young Man.
[Wearily.]
Gesundheit!
German Lady.
[Returning, says with conviction.]
Gesundheit! WUNDERSCHÖN!
[Goes.]
Glove Young Man.
[After a slight pause.]
I never was more highly entertained!
Yet one may have too much of a good thing.
Then, too, there’s business to attend to. So
If this distinguished company would drop
A hint how long the game will last—
[It grows dark. From both sides pictures in their frames steal forth, only their backs being presented to the audience. They stand in a semicircle opposite the Young Man. He bows jauntily.]
Why, how-de-do!... I trust you like my looks!
[It grows constantly darker. Mutterings of thunder are heard from time to time, mingled with the clash of swords.]
Will someone kindly press the button, call
A waiter?... Or if any gentleman
Will lend his hat and half a dozen eggs,
I’ll make an omelette!... No?... Look here,
Fair play! How long am I in for: for life?
[Pictures bow assent.]
No commutation for exemplary
Behavior, eh?