Chapter II: Act TWO

_As the curtain rises a clock in the hall is heard to strike six. Golden sunlight pours in the windows. The Mediterranean is as blue as tradition has painted it._ SANDOR TURAI, _now jauntily attired in white flannels is seated in the armchair at the center, with the loose leaves of a manuscript before him. As the clock stops striking, the door at left to the hall is opened by_ DWORNITSCHEK, _who comes down to_ TURAI, _bringing a newspaper on a salver_. DWORNITSCHEK _is followed by two lackeys in livery, each carrying an enormous silver tray piled high with_ TURAI’S _breakfast. During the dialogue that follows, the lackeys place the breakfast upon the long table at the right. This done, one of them stands at attention while the other goes up to the window, opens it, steps out on the balcony and lowers an awning which shuts off some of the now too brilliant sunlight._

DWORNITSCHEK. Good morning, sir.

TURAI. Good morning. What’s this?

DWORNITSCHEK. Morning paper, sir.

TURAI. You’ve read it, of course?

DWORNITSCHEK. Oh yes, sir.

TURAI. Anything about me in it?

DWORNITSCHEK. No, sir.

TURAI. Then take it away.

[DWORNITSCHEK _gives salver with the newspaper to one of the lackeys and motions both off_.]

DWORNITSCHEK. Let me see, sir, I _think_ it was ham, eggs, cold chicken, smoked salmon, cold beef, bacon, butter, milk, honey, jam and rolls that you ordered, was it not?

TURAI. Quite right.

DWORNITSCHEK. And tea with lemon.

TURAI. [_With revulsion._] Not lemon!

DWORNITSCHEK. There’s rum, sir--or cognac, if you prefer.

TURAI. Pardon my emotion--I loathe lemons.

DWORNITSCHEK. Yes, sir. Many people do. I had an aunt--

TURAI. Suppose we don’t talk about your aunt just for the moment.

DWORNITSCHEK. Very good, sir.

TURAI. Later on, perhaps.

DWORNITSCHEK. At any time that suits _you_, sir.

TURAI. You must make allowances for the artistic temperament. When I have been sitting up all night writing, I somehow don’t feel in the vein for discussing other people’s aunts. You understand, don’t you?

DWORNITSCHEK. I quite understand, sir.

[TURAI _has risen and crossed to the table, upon which he has put the manuscript. He now goes round to the right side where his place is set, he examines the breakfast with evident satisfaction. He lifts the covers from several silver dishes, looks at their contents with pleasure, and smiles at_ DWORNITSCHEK _with approval_.]

TURAI. You’re really a wonderful fellow. How on earth did you manage not to forget anything?

DWORNITSCHEK. It was a labour of love, sir. My heart is in that breakfast.

TURAI. [_Sitting down._] Your heart, _too_? [_After he has taken a sip of tea._] Ah! that puts new life into a man.

DWORNITSCHEK. You must have had very little sleep, sir.

TURAI. Not much.

DWORNITSCHEK. I hadn’t any.

TURAI. Yes, I remember you told me you were essentially a hibernating animal.

DWORNITSCHEK. Nobody else is stirring as yet. This is the time when I sometimes manage to lie down myself for a few moments.

TURAI. Then you will get some sleep, after all?

DWORNITSCHEK. Just forty winks, sir. That’s the advantage of being by the sea. Gentlemen stay in bed till noon. Very different from the mountains.

TURAI. [_Who throughout this dialogue is eating and drinking with relish and satisfaction._] They get up early in the mountains, eh?

DWORNITSCHEK. At about five or four-thirty. They like to go climbing. But there’s always a bright side, sir; they go to bed at nine.

TURAI. You know, you’re broadening my mind tremendously. Every time I see you, I learn something new.

DWORNITSCHEK. If it’s not a liberty, sir, I should like to say something.

TURAI. I’ll bet it’s something good. Go on.

DWORNITSCHEK. You ought to take more care of your health, sir. You don’t get enough sleep.

TURAI. _I_ don’t?!

DWORNITSCHEK. And you smoke too much, sir. I found at least fifty cigarette-butts in the ashtray in the library.

TURAI. Wrong. Thirty-seven.

DWORNITSCHEK. Too many, sir.

TURAI. What’s your daily allowance?

DWORNITSCHEK. Fifteen, sir.

TURAI. You’ll live to be a hundred.

DWORNITSCHEK. Thank you--is that a medical opinion, sir?

TURAI. No--just a hope. This weary world needs men like you.

DWORNITSCHEK. No, no, sir. Like _you_.

TURAI. Well, shall we say like both of us?

DWORNITSCHEK. Would it be a liberty, sir, if I expressed the opinion that you have a heart of gold?

TURAI. Not at all. Thank you very much.

DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir.

TURAI. No, no. Thank YOU.

DWORNITSCHEK. It’s the way you take an interest that touches a man, sir. I wish there was something I could do for _you_.

TURAI. At the moment, I think the best thing you can do for me is to leave me alone. And if anyone asks for me, tell them I’m sleeping and must not be disturbed. Understand?

DWORNITSCHEK. Oh, yes, indeed, sir.

[DWORNITSCHEK _starts to exit_. TURAI _stops him_. TURAI _pantomimes_ “Wait a minute. I must remember your name.” _He registers despair._ DWORNITSCHEK _smiles indulgently and whispers_ “Dwornitschek.”]

TURAI. Thank you.

DWORNITSCHEK. Thank _you_, sir.

[_He goes out at the left to hall._]

[TURAI _rises, listens at staircase, then goes to the telephone and takes up the receiver_.]

TURAI. Hello. Will you give me Miss Ilona Szabo’s room?

[_He waits. Telephone bell rings loudly in the room at the left. After a pause it rings again._]

ILONA’S VOICE. [_Sleepily._] YES???

TURAI. [_Speaks into telephone, very mildly._] Hello.

ILONA’S VOICE. HELLO!!!

TURAI. [_Softly._] Hello.

ILONA’S VOICE. WHO’S THAT?

TURAI. The unfeeling brute who has aroused you from your slumber is known to the police as Sandor Turai.

ILONA’S VOICE. [_Changing in a flash, delighted._] Sandor! Dear old Sandor!

TURAI. Well, and how’s the prima donna?

ILONA’S VOICE. Where are you speaking from?

TURAI. Next door.

ILONA’S VOICE. What!

TURAI. I thought you’d be surprised. I’m in the next room.

ILONA’S VOICE. How on earth?...

TURAI. My dear little Ilona, let’s postpone the explanations. I want to see you at once--immediately.

ILONA’S VOICE. [_Anxiously._] You’re frightening me. What is it?

TURAI. [_Deliberately puts down the receiver and speaks toward the wall._] Don’t get alarmed. [_Lights cigarette at piano._] Come in here at once. This minute.

ILONA’S VOICE. This minute?

TURAI. This very minute. [_Taps door at left._] Open this door. Put something on.

ILONA’S VOICE. What?

TURAI. Anything you have.

ILONA’S VOICE. Do what? I can’t hear. There must be something wrong with the telephone.

TURAI. [_Goes to the wall._] Put something on and come in here at once. Can you hear better now?

ILONA’S VOICE. Yes, I can hear beautifully now.

TURAI. Good.

ILONA’S VOICE. I’ll be right in. [TURAI _goes back to the telephone and hangs up the receiver. There is a short pause. Then the door at left to bedroom is thrown open and_ ILONA SZABO _enters. She is an extraordinarily beautiful, blonde young woman. Having just got out of bed and slipped a flimsy alluring negligee over her nightie, she is somewhat dishevelled. Her golden hair is awry. Moreover she is, at the moment, more than anxious, her apprehension and fright are close to panic._] Sandor--what is it? I feel something terrible has happened. What’s the matter? When did you get here?

TURAI. [_Calmly._] Sit down, my dear. You and I have got to do some quick talking.

ILONA. But what’s _happened_? For heaven’s sake, tell me!

TURAI. Sit down.

ILONA. Why?

TURAI. Because if you don’t sit down now, you’ll sit down later on when you hear what I’ve got to say--and you’ll sit down _hard_. Better do it gracefully while you can.

[_He pushes her gently into the armchair at center._]

ILONA. I don’t understand.

TURAI. You will. My dear little Ilona, in spite of the fact that you are engaged to my young friend Adam, you are still carrying on an affair with Mr. Almady.

ILONA. [_With indignation._] It’s an outrageous lie.

TURAI. Good! I thought you were going to say it was none of my business.

ILONA. I couldn’t say that, because you’re Albert’s guardian, guide, philosopher and friend and God knows what else. And you’re a friend of _mine_ and write plays for me. So I simply say that it’s a lie.

TURAI. I’m glad you do, because it’s an observation which I can answer. I’ve been in this room since last night and the walls in this new wing are as thin as paper.

ILONA. [_Looks at walls. As the truth dawns upon her she is horrified._] Good God!

TURAI. Lemon. [ILONA _hides her face_.] Lemon.... Church steeple. Well, dear Ilona. Suppose we talk this over? Something’s got to be done--and done quickly.

ILONA. If you heard, you heard what _I_ said too.

TURAI. Every word.

ILONA. Then you know that I told him to get out--and he’s _getting_ out to-day. At twelve o’clock. So, if you don’t say anything--and of course you won’t....

TURAI. Not quite so fast, please. If the thing were as simple as that, you would never have known from me that I had overheard you. I regret to say matters are much more unpleasant.

ILONA. [_Sinking back in chair._] My God! You don’t mean?...

TURAI. I see you’ve guessed.

ILONA. Did--did--I can’t say it.

TURAI. I will say it for you. Yes, the boy _did_ hear it, too.

ILONA. [_Looks at_ TURAI.] God!... He’s _here_ then?

TURAI. He is here.

ILONA. Where?

TURAI. Sh! He’s up in Mansky’s room--asleep. And last night he was in this room--awake.

ILONA. [_Rises, goes toward her room._] I’ll take veronal, all there is in my bottle.

TURAI. That’s not enough.

ILONA. [_Turns._] Ten ounces.

TURAI. I was not referring to the veronal. I mean suicide is no solution.

ILONA. There isn’t any solution that I could survive. [_Dramatically._] There are only two things I can possibly do--kill myself or deny the whole story.

TURAI. Deny the whole story? Do you suppose if it were just a question of telling lies, I would have troubled you? I’d have told them myself long ago.

ILONA. Then we come back to the veronal.

TURAI. Exactly. We come back to the veronal--and find it safely tucked away in its bottle.

ILONA. Well, what _do_ you suggest?

TURAI. I have my plan. And all I ask of you is not to hinder it.

ILONA. [_Almost crying._] You know I worship Albert. If anybody knows that, you do. I’ve been a different woman since I met him. He looks on me as a saint. [TURAI _gives her a quick ironic glance_.] And he’s right. I _have_ turned into a saint since I began to love him. It was the only thing I wanted to do in life--to keep straight for his sake. I was so happy. [_She sinks into armchair crying._] I love him so.

TURAI. And yet you can’t be true to him.

ILONA. [_Indignantly._] You’ve no right to say that. It was nothing but my damned sentimentality. You know very well that affair with that beast Almady didn’t last a couple of months. First he gave me breathing lessons and taught me how to throw my voice--

TURAI. [_With a significant glance._] Yes, he taught you that, all right.

ILONA. I’m just a victim of my kind heart. I thought I was rid of him, but he got himself invited here. And he’s always bursting into tears. A woman hates to see a man cry. He stuck to me like a leech. [_Rises and stalks about hysterically._] But why on earth would I want to start in with him again? I give you my word, Sandor, that last night was simply--like the last dying vibrations of a high note.

TURAI. You’d have done better to stop vibrating a little earlier. Still, there it is. What we’ve got to do now is--get you out of the mess.

ILONA. [_Runs across to_ TURAI _and throws herself on her knees, clasping him beseechingly_.] Sandor! Sandor darling! Do you really think you _can_?

TURAI. Yes, I can. But don’t think I’m doing it for your sake, my dear; not for the sake of your beautiful eyes. You deserve to be drawn and quartered. I’m doing it for that poor decent boy who still retains a few ideals in this unpleasant world. Yes, my dear Ilona, I think I must ask you to be a little ashamed of yourself.

ILONA. [_Bitterly._] Don’t worry. [_Rises._] I am. What can I do?

TURAI. [_Goes to telephone._] I am just going to tell you. And you won’t enjoy it. Still, good medicine’s rarely pleasant. [_Picks up receiver._] Hello. [_To_ ILONA.] What’s the number of Almady’s room?

ILONA. [_Apprehensively._] What do you want with him?

TURAI. [_Into the telephone._] Give me Mr. Almady’s room, please. [_Pause._] Never mind about all that, my good man. I don’t care what instructions he left--call him. And go on ringing till he answers. It’s a matter of life and death.

ILONA. What are you doing?

TURAI. [_In telephone._] Mr. Almady? Yes, yes, I know you gave instructions.... Will you please be quiet for a moment?... This is Sandor Turai speaking. Here in the new wing.... Last night, by car.... Good morning--you were awake already! Capital! Would you mind coming here at once. Room number four.... Yes, I mean NOW, right away.... Yes, matter of life and death was what I said, but I made a slight error. I should have said a matter of death--Yes, yes, this very minute--right. [_He hangs up the receiver._ ILONA _starts to go_.] Where are you off to?

ILONA. If Almady is coming here?...

TURAI. You will kindly stay just where you were.

ILONA. [_Looking toward_ ALBERT’S _bedroom at right, crying_.] He looked on me as a saint. He thought I was everything that was fine and pure. He called me his Madonna.

TURAI. You should have thought of that a long time ago.

ILONA. Tell me--what did Albert say?

TURAI. I wouldn’t ask that if I were you.

ILONA. God! What was the plan you said you had?... Can’t you speak?

TURAI. Patience.

ILONA. It’s too cruel.... Just because I hate hurting people’s feelings.... [_She breaks off as a knock sounds on the door left to hall._]

TURAI. Come in.

[ALMADY, _who enters is also in a state of nervous apprehension. He is attired in elaborate, not to say loud, house pajamas. A tall and but recently handsome man, now well into middle age._ ALMADY _is first, last and always the actor. He dramatizes every moment of his existence. He does not walk, he struts; he does not talk, he declaims._]

ALMADY. Good morning. [_Sees_ ILONA, _surprised_.] Hullo. _You_ here?

TURAI. Yes, she’s here.

ALMADY. But what’s the matter? Has something happened?

ILONA. Oh, do sit down.

TURAI. [_Grimly._] He’ll sit down quite soon enough. I’m not afraid of _his_ not sitting down.

ALMADY. [_To_ TURAI.] You’ll forgive me if I seem nervous....

TURAI. Glass of brandy?

ALMADY. Thank you. [_Deliberately._] _Never_ in the morning.

TURAI. Mr. Almady, you are a married man and the father of a family. And you are forcing your attentions on another man’s fiancée.

ALMADY. [_Indignantly._] It’s an outrageous lie.

TURAI. Good. I thought you were going to say it was none of my business. You would have been quite right. But a lie--no, I’m afraid that won’t do.

ALMADY. [_Aggressively._] Mr. Turai, I would have you know--

TURAI. Shut up!

ALMADY. [_Outraged._] “Shut up!”

TURAI. [_Significantly._] Lemon! [ALMADY _sits down abruptly_.] I told you he’d sit down. [ALMADY _looks at the left wall_.] Yes, quite right. It’s as thin as paper.

ALMADY. [_Rises._] Now come, Mr. Turai, between two gentlemen....

TURAI. I beg your pardon?

ALMADY. As one gentleman to another, I ask your discretion....

TURAI. Sit down.

ALMADY. [_Sitting down anxiously._] Why? Is there something else coming?

TURAI. [_Crosses to right and listens at staircase._] Yes, there is something else coming. Are you sitting down?

ALMADY. Yes.

TURAI. Then listen. I wasn’t the only one who heard everything. Her fiancé was in this room with me at the time, and his hearing is excellent.

ALMADY. [_Strangling._] Brandy!

TURAI. [_Pouring it out._] In the morning? [_Gives_ ALMADY _the brandy_.]

ALMADY. I always take it in the morning. [_He gulps it down._]

ILONA. Well, what are you going to do now, you miserable idiot, you? You see what you’ve done. You’ve driven me to suicide. Oh God! I shall die. I shall die!

ALMADY. [_Rising melodramatically._] I’ll die with you!

ILONA. I don’t want you! I’m going to die alone.

ALMADY. [_Pompously._] I am ready to give him satisfaction.

TURAI. That’s the last straw. [_As_ ALMADY _starts to speak_.] I’ll tell you what you are going to do. You are going to do just as I order.

ALMADY. [_Starting up._] Order?

TURAI. Sit down.

[ALMADY _sits down_.]

ILONA. Yes--order. [_To_ TURAI--_rapidly_.] Tell us, please. Never mind how much he rants.

ALMADY. [_Indignantly._] Rants! You dare to criticise my diction?

TURAI. Oh! Damn your diction! Just thank your stars that I’m going to get you out of this. A married man! Father of a family. With four children at home--four little lemons! [ALMADY _rises_.] One word from you, and this telegram, all ready and written, goes off to your wife.

[ALMADY _looks again at wall and groans_.]

ILONA. Look at him. Don’t look at the wall. Last night was the time to have done that.

TURAI. In that room next door--last night--something occurred.

ILONA. [_Ashamed._] Yes, yes, _please_. We know what occurred.

TURAI. That is just what you don’t know. You are now going to hear. What occurred was the rehearsal of a play. Do you grasp my meaning?

ILONA. In the middle of the night?

TURAI. In the middle of the night.

ALMADY. How do you mean--the rehearsal of a play?

TURAI. Your very loud remarks, so loud that they actually penetrated the wall--were dialogue from a play. Now, do you understand?

ILONA. I do. [_To_ ALMADY.] Don’t you--idiot? [_Rises._] It’s the most marvelous, wonderful idea, you old darling....

[_She is just about to embrace_ TURAI, _when she stops in consternation_.]

TURAI. What’s the matter?

ILONA. It’s no good. He’d never believe it.

TURAI. Why wouldn’t he believe it?

ILONA. Where on earth is there a play with lines in it like those?

TURAI. Where? [_Picking up pile of papers from the table._] Here.

ILONA. What do you mean?

TURAI. [_Pointing._] Here you are. Here’s the play. This is it.

ILONA. Who wrote it?

TURAI. I did. Don’t stare at me, my dear child, with those starry eyes of blue. [_Sits on bench._] Rather ask when I wrote it.

ILONA. When could you have written it?

TURAI. This morning--between four and six. After all, one is either a playwright or one isn’t. Half of it I heard through the wall; the other half I wrote to fit. In this life, everyone has to fight with his own weapons. My weapon is the pen! And, on this occasion I hope it will prove considerably mightier than the sword. I am feeling this morning like an acrobat, who for once has the chance to use his skill to save a life. I don’t suppose any play has ever yet been written with such purely altruistic motives. Well, there you are. There’s the play. Read it--learn it and play it.

[_He gives her the manuscript._]

ILONA. _Play_ it?

TURAI. Naturally you must play it. How else can you make him believe without a shadow of doubt that what you were saying last night was just dialogue? Off you go. Dress rehearsal early this evening. Opening to-night.

ALMADY. To-night? But where?

TURAI. At the concert, of course. After dinner in the ballroom. [_To_ ILONA.] You’re down on the programme already for something or other.

ILONA. A couple of songs. [_Contemptuously._] He’s to recite some poems.

TURAI. Then there’ll be a slight change in the programme. He’ll act with you instead--a one-act play.

ILONA. [_Looking at script._] But how on earth can I learn all this by to-night?

[ALMADY _goes to window_.]

TURAI. Well, really! Last night you knew it well enough. [ALMADY _sighs deeply_.] What’s the matter with you?

ALMADY. [_Comes down._] Mr. Turai, that was a sigh of relief. Do you _know_ my wife?

TURAI. I do. Didn’t I tell you that it was a matter of death?

ALMADY. How can I ever thank you?

[_He holds out his hand._ TURAI _ignores it_.]

TURAI. Don’t bother to try. If you think I’m doing this for your sake, my good man, you’re greatly mistaken. Unfortunately, my life-saving apparatus is so constructed that you automatically have to be rescued, too.

ILONA. Oh, but listen....

TURAI. Now what is it?

ILONA. What earthly reason could we have had for rehearsing at three in the morning?

TURAI. That’s what I ask myself, but I answer myself--quite simple. You had to play the thing to-night. You’d lost a lot of time on a picnic. Every moment was precious. You were so conscientious that when you came home you insisted on rehearsing even though it was three o’clock in the morning.

ILONA. Well, we’d better go and start studying at once. I’m a very slow study.

TURAI. One minute. Don’t get excited. Who’s supposed to be running this concert?

ILONA. The Count’s secretary, Mr. Mell.

TURAI. We must notify him of this change in the programme. [_Goes to telephone._] Hello.... Give me Mr. Mell’s room, please.

ILONA. But he’ll be asleep.

TURAI. Oh no, my dear. Not after this telephone bell has rung once or twice. [_He hands_ ILONA _the receiver_.] There you are--ladies first.

ILONA. [_Taking telephone._] But what am I to say?

TURAI. Keep calm. I’ll prompt you.

ILONA. Hello! Is that Mr. Mell? Yes, it is early, isn’t it?

[_She looks at_ TURAI _for directions_.]

TURAI. Good morning.

ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] Good morning.

TURAI. How did you sleep?

ILONA. [_Her hand over the receiver._] I _can’t_ say that. The poor man is furious.

TURAI. [_Shrugging._] Use your own judgment, then.

ILONA. [_Into the telephone in her most seductive manner._] Dear Mr. Mell! [_Coos._] I’m so dreadfully sorry to wake you up at this hour, but I wanted to tell you that there will be a little change in the programme to-night. I’m sure the Count will be pleased. I’m sure you will be pleased. I’m sure the audience will be pleased.

TURAI. Unanimous.

ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] Instead of working alone, I’m going to appear with Mr. Almady. Yes, Mr. Almady. In an extremely witty, charming, brilliant little duologue. [TURAI _bows_. ILONA _listens at the telephone for a moment. Then she turns to_ TURAI _and asks, as if she were still speaking to_ MELL.] What kind of a play is it?

TURAI. French.

ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] French. [_As before._] Who wrote it?

TURAI. Geraldy.

ILONA. Geraldy, I believe.... [_Pause._] Oh, isn’t that nice!

TURAI. [_Apprehensive._] What’s nice?

ILONA. [_Hand over receiver._] He says he knows every line that Geraldy ever wrote.

TURAI. Then it’s by Sardou.

ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] No, I’m sorry. I’ve just been looking at the script again. It’s not by Geraldy; it’s by Sardou.

TURAI. The Great Sardou.

ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] The Great Sardou!... Indeed?

TURAI. How is he up on Sardou?

ILONA. [_Covering receiver._] He says the only thing of Sardou’s he knows is Hedda Gabbler.

TURAI. [_Delighted._] That’s the man for us!

ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] That’s the man for us.

TURAI. No, no, no! That last remark was supposed to be confidential.

ILONA. Good-bye, and thank you so much, Mr. Mell. You’ve been so sweet.... Oh, of course--as if we’d dream of having anybody but you as a prompter!... The title?

TURAI. A tooth for a tooth!

ILONA. [_Into the telephone._] A truth....

TURAI. Tooth, tooth.

ILONA. A tooth for a tooth.... Yes, isn’t it? Quite snappy. [_Coos._] Good-bye. [_She hangs up receiver and turns to_ TURAI.] Why a _French_ piece?

TURAI. Merely to ensure that nobody will know who wrote it. That’s the beauty of French literature--there’s such a lot of it. Besides, one has one’s conscience. I’ve stolen so much from the French in my time that it’s only fair I should give _them_ something for a change. And now that everything seems to be working out all right, let me say with all the emphasis at my disposal--get out. Go and study! [_To_ ALMADY.] And--so that no one will recognize my handwriting--_you_ have got to copy out the script.

ALMADY. All of it?

TURAI. From beginning to end.

ALMADY. You think of everything.

TURAI. Unlike a certain Southern fruit.

ILONA. [_Who has been looking through the script._] Oh, but this isn’t right.

TURAI. What isn’t?

ILONA. This line. You make me say “Your kiss is revolting to me.” What I really said was....

TURAI. “That was your old kiss. Sweet and burning like hot punch.” I know. My memory is excellent. But fortunately we got the boy out of the room before you got that far.

ALMADY. And may I be permitted to inquire _why_ my kiss should be described as revolting?

TURAI. The line occurs in the second part of the play, where I was relying on my native inspiration.

ALMADY. You call my kiss revolting? I wish to know why.

TURAI. That is how I _see_ it. I am the author of this play, and that is my opinion of your kiss.

[ALMADY _goes up stage in a huff_.]

ILONA. I do think you might have made some noise to warn us. Why couldn’t you have coughed or something?

TURAI. Suppose I had, what should I have been able to do _now_? You overlook the fact that your very first words, my dear Ilona, left no room for misunderstanding. If I had stopped you then nothing could have averted the tragedy.

ALMADY. [_Coming down mollified._] What a brain!

TURAI. You flatter me!

ILONA. No, he doesn’t. He’s right for once. Did this idea come to you the moment you heard us?

TURAI. No, I got it from you.

ILONA. From us?

TURAI. Yes, stupid of me, I admit. You see, I always assume the best of my fellowmen. And just for a minute I did think that you really were acting. Later on, I realized my mistake.

ILONA. You thought we were acting. Why?

TURAI. Because it all sounded so artificial. No ring of conviction. I refer particularly to the more erotic passages.

ILONA. I don’t wonder. Considering I don’t care one little bit for the man....

ALMADY. What’s that?

ILONA. You heard.

ALMADY. You don’t love me?

ILONA. No.

ALMADY. [_Furious._] So you were lying.

ILONA. Yes.

ALMADY. Just to get rid of me?

ILONA. [_With loathing, vehemently._] Yes. I hate the sight of you!

ALMADY. [_Bitterly._] Serpent!

ILONA. I’d like to murder you!

ALMADY. [_Bursts into ludicrous sobs._]

ILONA. My God!--this is the limit!

TURAI. If you want to cry all over anyone, cry all over me. I like it. It’s like a tonic to me.

ALMADY. What made you realize that we were not acting?

TURAI. The disgusting, sloppy way you began carrying on. No author living would dare put slush like that in the mouth of an actor who was supposed to be making love.

ALMADY. Sloppy?

TURAI. Beyond words.

ALMADY. [_With indignation._] Allow me to inform you--

TURAI. Shut up!

ALMADY. [_His dignity collapsing._] Oh, very well.

TURAI. My friends may be here any minute now. Please go and study your parts. [_To_ ILONA, _who has been turning over the leaves of the script_.] That’s a bit you’ll have to learn particularly well.

ILONA. Which?

TURAI. [_Pointing to manuscript._] These lines here. This loathsome series of speeches--the ones we overheard last night. [_Points._] From there to there.

[ALMADY _looks at script_.]

ILONA. [_Reads._] Odd--I hardly remember--

TURAI. I do. Nor is your fiancé likely to have forgotten.

ILONA. [_Reading._] “I worship you. I adore you. I love you as the church steeple loves the cloud that settles on its summit.” [ALMADY _turns away, embarrassed_.] Just words!

ALMADY. [_Takes script._] “You have used me up and squeezed me like a lemon.”

ILONA. [_Takes script._] Yes, now I remember--

ALMADY. It’s all down, word for word.

[TURAI _takes script_.]

TURAI. Yes, the passage is underlined in red ink. Three pages--here--from page sixteen. It goes on “Come here and let me kiss that beautiful classic brow”--and then--this is the worst bit, here--this mad outburst of sensuality--[_Reads rapidly._] “When I look at _that_--at the perfect shape. The rose flush of that skin--Just to stroke it!...”

ILONA. Yes, but I....

TURAI. I know, I know. [_Reads._] “Hands off!” you said. But he couldn’t have obeyed you for he goes on “My God! How round it is! How smooth! How velvety!” And then I’m afraid he must have got very close indeed for he adds, “And how fragrant.” That’s right, isn’t it?

ALMADY. Quite right. It _was_ fragrant.

ILONA. But I....

TURAI. No, my dear, you did _not_. There was a complete silence until you exclaimed, “You mustn’t bite....” [_Both turn away._] Yes, I should think you _would_ be ashamed of yourselves. [_He gives_ ILONA _the script_.] All right, then; copy it out and learn it. If you ever studied parts in your lives, study these. We’ll have the dress rehearsal at seven-thirty sharp, here in this room. I’ll give you a run through. And after dinner, first performance. And now--?

ILONA. Out we go, eh?

TURAI. You took the words out of my mouth. And don’t forget, we’ve not seen each other for three months.

ILONA. All right--three months.

ALMADY. [_Going out._] A colossal brain!

[_They bow._]

TURAI. I thank you.

[ALMADY _and_ ILONA _go into her room_. TURAI _sits down and resumes his interrupted breakfast. Throughout the following scene he goes on eating quietly, deliberately, and with a good appetite._]

[MANSKY _enters at right, also in white flannels, but looking more doleful and dejected than ever_.]

MANSKY. Have you been up long?

TURAI. I couldn’t sleep. [_He goes on eating._] How’s our infant?

MANSKY. Woke up a moment ago. I left him dressing.

TURAI. You had breakfast yet?

MANSKY. Not a mouthful. Couldn’t touch it. _You_ seem to have no difficulty in putting it away.

TURAI. [_With mock sadness._] One must keep up one’s strength.

MANSKY. I’m amazed, and, if I may say so, a little shocked. Sitting there gorging as if nothing had happened. Can’t you realize we’re absolutely ruined? I’m positively ill thinking about it.

TURAI. [_Mysteriously._] Shall I let you into a secret, Mansky?

MANSKY. [_With excited anticipation._] Yes. Tell me.

TURAI. [_With great deliberation._] I am a man who weighs his words. I do not speak lightly. And I say to you solemnly, my friend, [_dramatic pause._] that this is the best bit of ham I’ve ever tasted.

MANSKY. [_Furious._] Bah!

[_Crosses left to a mirror._]

TURAI. [_Continuing as before._] Juicy--nutty--positively good. [_Solicitously._] Did the boy sleep at all?

MANSKY. He dropped off about daylight out of sheer exhaustion. [_Looks in the glass._] I’m pale.

TURAI. Say anything?

MANSKY. Not a word. Just stared at the ceiling. You know, that’s bad.

TURAI. Ceilings aren’t so bad. Walls are much worse.

MANSKY. What I can’t understand is why a magnificent place like this should have walls like tissue-paper.

TURAI. Ah! These are deep waters.

MANSKY. [_Irritated._] Do stop eating!

TURAI. But I haven’t finished.

MANSKY. Gobble--gobble--gobble! [_Looks in the glass._] My God! I am pale!

TURAI. Suits you. Intellectual pallor.

MANSKY. [_Crosses to_ TURAI.] What about that solution you were hinting at last night?

TURAI. There were several possibilities. I considered them all thoroughly in the night watches--while you lay snoring in your bed. Oh yes, I heard you while I was changing my clothes. [_Points to the table._] Telegrams, letters, all ready. Finally I hit on the best and simplest plan.

MANSKY. Which is?

TURAI. I’m going to do everything possible to make him break with her.

MANSKY. What for?

TURAI. Because that’s the surest way of bringing them together. If he casts her off forever--in two weeks he’ll be rushing after her and falling at her feet. The lady--after a little coaxing--will allow herself to melt. He will coax a little more. She will melt a little more. Finally she will melt altogether--and the curtain will fall on the lovers’ slow embrace.

MANSKY. [_With cumulative contempt._] You thought of that in the night, did you?

TURAI. I did.

MANSKY. All by yourself?

TURAI. All by myself.

MANSKY. Well!!! I’ve noticed all this past year that you’ve been slipping. I realise now, that you’ve completely lost your grip. Our last show died the death simply because you would write psychology into it. And now you’ve become simply drivelling. It’s a great shock to me. Do you know what’s happening? Little by little you’re beginning to think--and that spells ruin for both of us. Haven’t you grasped yet what a frightful knock-down blow last night’s affair was to that boy?

TURAI. Sh! Sh! [_Listens, pointing to door right._] Here he is! [_Enter_ ADAM. _He is also in white flannels. Very solemn and miserable. Pause. He passes them without a word and goes to balcony._] Hullo! Not even a good morning?

ADAM. Oh, good morning.

[TURAI _rises_; MANSKY _looks longingly at breakfast things_.]

MANSKY. [_To_ ADAM _with his best bed-side manner_.] Had breakfast?

ADAM. No.

[MANSKY _goes above table and sits down; starts to eat_.]

TURAI. [_To_ ADAM.] Sleep?

ADAM. No.

TURAI. Nor did I. [ADAM _looks at left wall_.] No. Nothing from there. Not another sound. He left and she went to sleep. _I_ didn’t on your account. [_To_ MANSKY.] Hullo! Appetite picking up? Appetite picking up?

MANSKY. [_Starting guiltily and pushing his plate away._] No. I can’t swallow. Too nervous. I’m a wreck.

TURAI. Try the ham.

ADAM. [_Goes to_ TURAI.] I--my dear Uncle Sandor--I don’t want to be a burden to you two any longer--now that my life has been blown to bits.

TURAI. Come, come, come!

ADAM. I mean it. I know what I’m talking about. There’s a great crack in my heart, and--

TURAI. Come now,--be a man. We had enough of that sort of talk last night. Tell me just what is it you want to do?

ADAM. Before anything else, I want to get away from this place.

TURAI. Quite reasonable. And then?

ADAM. Then I’ll tear up the music I wrote for her--tear it into little bits and burn it.

TURAI. Right. And after that?

ADAM. Don’t be so casual. You know I have nobody in the world but you--you two. If you hadn’t been here, I’d have ended things long ago.

TURAI. [_To_ MANSKY, _who has once more started on the breakfast_.] That’s right. Peck a bit.

MANSKY. [_Jumping up._] No. It’s no good. Absolutely can’t swallow. I’m a very sick man.

ADAM. You see? I’m to blame for that.

TURAI. Now listen to me, my boy. Sit down. [ADAM _sits_.] What has happened, has happened. It’s over, done with, a thing of the past. And I’m going to say something to you now which no young person will ever believe. You’re twenty-five and you’re gifted. The world’s at your feet. And that world, let me remind you, contains a great many million women.

ADAM. What good are they to me? I only wanted this one. [_Rises._] Can’t we get away now--at once. I won’t see her!

TURAI. Oh yes, you will. No scandals, if you please. You arrived here late at night; everybody knows she is your fiancée, you can’t run away this morning. Now, I’m not going to urge--in fact, I--er--positively forbid you to become reconciled to her,--but you must do the sensible thing. In the course of the morning we will go to her and pay our respects, and stay on here another day or two, and we will not breathe a word of what happened last night. You will behave towards her quite nicely and naturally. I know it will hurt. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. But to-day you are a man.

ADAM. Yes. You’re right.

TURAI. Up with the head and out with the chin and damn everybody! That’s the stuff. The day after to-morrow, when we leave, you shall write her a letter, and let yourself go as much as you like. And, no matter how it may hurt, you have finished with that woman forever.

ADAM. [_With an effort._] Very well. And if--it should hurt _too_ much, don’t be afraid that I’ll go back to her. I’ll always have pluck enough to put a bullet through my head.

MANSKY. There! See where you have got us to with your psychology.

TURAI. [_To_ ADAM.] You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

ADAM. [_Smilingly._] It’s all right. It was silly of me to talk nonsense like that. I won’t let you down. You shall be satisfied with me.

MANSKY. [_To_ ADAM.] Good. Then you won’t--er--tear anything up?

ADAM. No.

TURAI. You’ll behave towards Ilona as if nothing had happened?

ADAM. Yes. Honour bright.

[_He holds out his hand._]

TURAI. [_Rises._] I am satisfied.

MANSKY. [_Sitting down to breakfast, a completely changed man._] It’s an enormous relief to me to see you getting hold of yourself again so capitally. [_Eats rapidly._] Bless my soul, yes, an enormous relief. I really feel a little better.

TURAI. I’m proud of you. [_To_ MANSKY.] Haven’t you finished breakfast _yet_?

MANSKY. [_Delighted._] I can swallow.

TURAI. So I notice.

MANSKY. [_To_ ADAM.] Come and join me, my boy. You’ll find your appetite steals back, little by little. [_To_ TURAI, _who is standing beside him_.] He’s suffering. He can’t get over it.

TURAI. We must try to make him.

MANSKY. Come on, my boy--just a mouthful. Try a little of this excellent ham.

ADAM. I don’t want any ham.

MANSKY. Well, a slice of chicken, then--and some nice hot tea with a drop of brandy.

ADAM. Oh, all right. [_Sits down._]

MANSKY. [_To_ TURAI, _who is sitting deep in thought_.] Well, what’s on _your_ mind?

ADAM. After trying to cheer _me_ up, are you going to be depressed yourself?

MANSKY. Do you know what I think’s the matter with him? He’s got another--

TURAI. You win. Another problem.

MANSKY. Theatre?

TURAI. As always.

MANSKY. Oh, my God!

TURAI. Last night, when we came into this room, I was saying how hard it was to begin a play. I’m now thinking how hard it is to end a second act.

MANSKY. Oh, come and end your breakfast.

TURAI. No, I mean it. It’s worrying me. Take this situation of ours, for instance--just as we did yesterday--We have had a curious experience. We arrived perfectly happy and immediately got a terrible shock--a ghastly disillusionment. We’ve managed to survive it, and we’ve got ourselves in hand again. But, suppose these things had happened not in real life but on the stage--suppose this were not a real room but a painted set--suppose we three were characters in a play who had just passed through the experiences we have passed through--

MANSKY. Well?

TURAI. Well, how would you end the act?

MANSKY. [_Impatiently._] My dear fellow! It’s ended already.

TURAI. In a way, yes. But don’t forget that, at the last moment, before the curtain actually falls, you need something more--a new note of suspense--a punch--both, if you can manage it. In fact, just what is implied in that word “Curtain.” Curtain--Curtain. The act must end and yet it must not quite end. The audience’s interest must be snapped up--given a jolt. So, my distinguished collaborator, how about it? You’ve often told me how good you are--try your hand at ending the second act of this dismal adventure of ours.

MANSKY. My dear chap, simplicity itself. Come here. Sit down. [TURAI _sits at table_.] Now then. I’m all for the quiet curtain. One of those charming delicate things the French do so well. _You_ know--sophisticated--lightly sentimental--the smile behind the tear. The three friends sit down to breakfast. Audiences always like to see actors eating. The storm has passed. The skies are still a little dark, but there is sunshine in the heart and all that sort of thing. Let this sink in for a bit--everything very cozy and pleasant. Business of eating--we each have a glass of wine. [_They all take up their glasses._] For a moment--silence--their thoughts are busy with what has passed. [_Pause._] Capital. And then--[_He raises his glass._]--you want a couple of smart lines, spoken with something of a flourish. [_Thinks._] Oh, well--[_Then as if he had thought of what he wanted to say--to_ ADAM.] My young friend, to-day you have become a man--

TURAI. [_Pointing to where he was sitting at the time._] _I_ said that.

MANSKY. For--always remember--

TURAI. Yes, that shows ’em it’s coming.

MANSKY. [_Not heeding him._] Always remember that in affairs of the heart it is not the first victory that makes us men, but the first defeat. [_Lifts his glass._] To Woman’s Treachery, which has made our child a man! [_Raises his hand toward the curtain._] Curtain. [_Curtain starts to come down. They put their glasses down on the table, simultaneously, untasted._ MANSKY _smiles complacently_.] How’s that?

TURAI. Rotten! [_Curtain slowly goes up again._] [_Gets up._] Tame. Feeble. Nothing in the nature of a high spot. I’m not saying it isn’t pretty and graceful. Charming even--but it lacks suspense. [_Pause._] [_To_ ADAM.] How would _you_ do it?

ADAM. I? Feeling as I do now?

TURAI. Give us your idea.

ADAM. [_With tremendous intensity._] Very well, I’ll give you my idea. We start from where Mansky gave that toast.

MANSKY. To Woman’s--?

ADAM. [_Rises._] Treachery. That’s it. I’d say--“No. I won’t drink any toast.” [_Throws glass against the wall smashing it to bits._]

MANSKY. [_Approvingly._] Effective.

ADAM. [_Rapidly losing control of himself and becoming hysterical._] That woman was not just an incident in my life. She was my first great passion. I promised to act as if nothing had happened. I meant to keep that promise. But when I remember that I gave her my life and that she whispers words of love to another man--and--and kisses another man, that’s such unbearable, burning torture, that the only right solution-- [_Grabs small game carving knife from table._]

TURAI. [_Leaping forward._] Hey! Stop that!

ADAM. [_Struggling with him._] No! No!

MANSKY. [_Rushing forward._] My God! You weren’t really--

ADAM. [_Struggling._] Let me go. I want to die.

[TURAI _has got knife away from him. He looks at it intently._ ADAM _stands, pale and defiant_.]

TURAI. What the devil do you think you’re doing?

ADAM. [_Bitterly._] Just--finishing the act. [_He sits down._ MANSKY _follows him and sits down, too. Smiles wanly._] Curtain!

[_Curtain starts to come down._]

TURAI. [_Putting the knife away._] Very bad. [_Curtain goes up slowly again._] Quite impossible. Death’s all right for the end of a play, but absolutely no good for a second act. Besides, the scene was too crude. I don’t say the gallery might not like it, but think what the critics would say. They despise melodrama. Suspense is what you want--suspense and then a quick curtain.

MANSKY. And now, I suppose, you could show us how it really ought to be done?

TURAI. [_Goes to telephone._] Hello. Will you give me Miss Ilona Szabo’s room, please.

[_Bell sounds in_ ILONA’S _room_.]

MANSKY. [_Starting._] What on earth--?

ILONA’S VOICE. Hello.

TURAI. Hello. Ilona?

ILONA’S VOICE. Yes. Who is that speaking?

TURAI. Don’t you recognize my voice? This is Sandor Turai.

ILONA’S VOICE. Oh, how wonderful! Are you here, then? Where are you speaking from?

TURAI. Yes, I’m right here in the castle. Next door to you. Number four.

ILONA’S VOICE. What a perfectly delightful surprise.

TURAI. We came by car last night. All three of us.

ILONA’S VOICE. You don’t mean Albert, too?

TURAI. Yes--and Mansky, if you think that worth mentioning. We’re all three here in this room, and we’ve brought you the finished script of the operetta.

ILONA’S VOICE. Marvellous! That’s something like a surprise.

TURAI. We were hesitating about waking you so early, but I particularly wanted to see you about something. Can you come in here for a minute?

[_Replaces receiver and goes to door._ ADAM _and_ MANSKY _stand where they are_.]

[_Enter_ ILONA _with assumed joy and excitement_.]

ILONA. Well, this is wonderful of you all. [_She kisses_ TURAI _lightly and crosses quickly to_ ADAM _who kisses her hands_.] What a surprise. Albert darling! This _is_ a surprise. [_She hangs onto_ ADAM’S _arm_.] Sandor! To think that it’s--

TURAI. --three whole months--

ILONA. --three whole months since I’ve seen you. How brown you’re looking. And younger than ever. Let me look at you. Wonderful! [_She crosses to_ MANSKY _and kisses him on each cheek_.] And Mansky--how are _you_, Mansky dear? I think this is too sweet of you all. You don’t know how I’ve been longing to see you. When did you get here? [_She returns to_ ADAM.]

TURAI. [_Very gravely._] Just a minute, Ilona. [_He looks through door into her room._] Why, Mr. Almady! Of all people! Won’t you come in?

[_Enter_ ALMADY.]

ALMADY. [_Nervously._] Good morning.

TURAI. Fancy finding _you_ here after all these years.

ALMADY. [_Pompously._] Passing through. Just passing through. I only wanted to say how-d’you-do to the Count, but they wouldn’t let me go. The--er--the shooting-party you know, and the concert. They insisted on my staying.

ILONA. I was _so_ surprised to see him.

TURAI. Pardon me for disturbing you and possibly casting a slight gloom on what must have been a joyful reunion, but I have something rather important to say.

[ILONA _drops_ ADAM’S _arm_.]

ILONA. [_Crosses to_ TURAI.] What do you mean? Nothing--nothing unpleasant, I hope?

TURAI. Yes--extremely unpleasant. [ILONA _sits down, terrified. To_ ALMADY.] Please. [_He motions them to sit down._] Well, then. We arrived here last night-- [_Long pause._] And just now we were sitting having breakfast--we three-- [_To_ MANSKY.] Weren’t we?

ADAM. [_Puzzled._] Yes.

MANSKY. Well?

TURAI. Keep quite calm, please. We were sitting here, having breakfast--all three of us. [_He lowers his voice and speaks very earnestly._] I must entreat you all to hear what I am about to say quite calmly-- Don’t lose your heads--

ILONA. For God’s sake--

ALMADY. [_Uneasily._] Well? What is it?

TURAI. [_Holds up his hand._] Please! [_Dead silence._] What I am about to say--and I shall not detain you long now--must almost inevitably have a shattering effect on the lives--both the private and the professional lives--of all us five people. I have asked myself--is it wise to speak? And I have answered myself--wise or not, it is unavoidable. Ilona-- [ILONA _rises, gasping_.] I have a question to ask you-- [_Breaks off. Dead silence. Then very simply to_ MANSKY.] How’s that for suspense?

MANSKY. Yes. Yes. Well? What now?

TURAI. Nothing. That’s all. [_Smiles._] Curtain! [_Curtain comes down quickly and rises immediately. He offers_ ILONA _his arm, as the rest of the group breathe again and relax their tension_.] We’ve just been having an argument about the proper way to end a second act. [_Leads_ ILONA _slowly to door, left to hall, the others following_.] I couldn’t resist the temptation to show these colleagues of mine how, by the most simple methods, you can make an act end on a note of suspense. You see--

[_He goes out, talking, followed first by_ ALMADY, _then by_ ADAM _and_ MANSKY.]

MANSKY. [_Going out; to_ ADAM.] Crazy. Absolutely crazy. Thinks of nothing in the world but the theatre-- [_The curtain falls again._]