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Action Sound Action Flys Video Action

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 THE BALD SOPRANO
AN ANTI-PLAY
The Bald Soprano premiered at the Theatre des Noctambules on
May i i, 1950 with the Compagnie Nicolas Bataille under the
direction of Mr. Bataille, who also played the role of Mr. Martin.
CHARACTERS
MR. SMITH Claude Mansard
MRS. SMITH Paulette Frantz
MR. MARTIN Nicolas Bataille
MRS. MARTIN Simone Mozet
MARY, THE MAID Odette Barrois
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Henry-Jacques Huet
The translation of The Bald Soprano by Tina Howe had its World
Premiere on September 19, 2004 at Atlantic Theater Company:
Neil Pepe, Artistic Director; Andrew D. Hamingson, Managing
Director; Melinda Berk, General Manager; Kurt Gardner, Produc-
tion Manager; Boneau/Bryan-Brown, Press Representative. Set
design was by Loy Arcenas; costume design by Theresa Squire;
lighting design by josh Bradford; sound design by Obadiah Eaves;
dramaturge, Christian Parker; casting, Bernard Telsey Casting; fight
director, Rick Sordelet; and production stage manager, Jennifer
Grutza. Directed by Carl Forsman. The cast was as follows:

MRS. SMITH Jan Maxwell

MR. SMITH Michael Countryman
MARY, THE MAID Maggie Lacey
MR. MARTIN Robert Stanton
MRS. MARTIN Seana Kofoed
THE FIRE CAPTAIN John Ellison Conlee
2

SCENE I
 Mr. and Mrs. Smith
A bourgeois drawing room in Great Britain. With British armchairs. A
thoroughly British evening. MR. SMITH, British, sits in his armchair
wearing his British slippers, puffing on his British pipe and reading his
British newspaper next to a British fire. He sports British spectacles and
a trim gray British moustache. MRS. SMITH sits beside him in
another British armchair, mending some British socks. A long moment
of British silence. The British clock strikes seventeen British strokes.
MRS. SMITH Good grief, it's nine o'clock. We've eaten our
soup, fish, buttered potato jackets and British salad. The
children have drunk British water. We stuffed ourselves this
evening. All because we live in the outskirts of London and
because our name is Smith.
Mr. Smith keeps reading, clicking his tongue.
MRS. SMITH The buttered potato jackets were delicious and
the salad dressing wasn't rancid. The salad dressing they
carry at the corner is higher grade than the salad dressing
they carry across the street. Though I wouldn't dream of
telling them it was disappointing.
Mr. Smith reads on, clicking his tongue.
MRS. SMITH It's just the salad dressing at the corner is better.
Mr. Smith reads on, clicking his tongue.
MRS. SMITH Mary did a lovely job with the buttered potato
jackets this evening. She didn't cook them enough the last
time. I prefer them crisp.
Mr. Smith reads on, clicking his tongue.
3

MRS. SMITH The fish was so fresh it made me drool. I had

two helpings. No, make that three. I had to run to the loo.
You also had three helpings, but you took less the third
time whereas I took much more. I ate rings around you.
What's going on? You usually eat me under the table. You
aren't lacking in the appetite department.
Mr. Smith clicks his tongue.
MRS. SMITH The soup, however, was on the salty side.
Saltier than you. Ha, ha, ha. It had too many leeks and not
enough onions. I'm sorry I didn't tell Mary to add a pinch
of anise seed. Next time I'll know better.
Mr. Smith reads on, clicking his tongue.
MRS. SMITH Our little boy was hoping for a beer. He enjoys
 the buzz. Like father, like son. Did you see how he eyed
the bottle? But I filled his glass with good old British
drinking water instead. He was parched, so he drank it.
Helen takes after me: she's practical, a penny-pincher and a
piano player. She never asks for British beer. She reminds
me of our little girl who only drinks milk and only eats
porridge. Well, what do you expect? She's only two. Her

name is Peggy. The quince tart with string beans was

fantastic. We might have broken out a spot of Australian
burgundy along with it for dessert, but I don't like having
wine at the table for fear of turning the children into lushes.
They must be taught moderation and sobriety.
Mr. Smith reads on, clicking his tongue.
MRS. SMITH Mrs. Parker knows a Rumanian grocer named
Popesco Rosenfeld who just arrived from Constantinople.
He's a connoisseur of yogurt. He has a diploma from the
Andrianople Institute of Yogurt Cultures. Tomorrow I'm
going to buy a big pot of native Rumanian yogurt from
4

him. Opportunities like this don't pop up every day of the

week, here in the outskirts of London.
Mr. Smith reads on, clicking his tongue.
Nuts. SMITH Yogurt is excellent for the stomach, the kidneys,
appendicitis and apotheosis. That's what Doctor Mackenzie-
King told me. He takes care of our neighbors' children, the
Johns. He's a good doctor. You can trust him. He never
prescribes medication he has hasn't tried on himself first.
Before he operated on Parker, he operated on his own liver,
even though there was nothing wrong with it.
MR. SMITH Then how come he pulled through and Parker
died?
MRS. SMITH Because the operation was a success in his case,
but not in Parker's.
MR. SMITH Then Mackenzie-King isn't a good doctor. The
operation should succeed for them both or they both should
die.

MRS. SMITH Why?

MR. SMITH Because a conscientious doctor should die with
his patients if he can't cure them. The captain of a ship goes
down with his boat. Into the briny deep. He doesn't think
 about saving his own skin.
MRS. SMITH You can't compare a patient with a boat!
MR. SMITH Why not? Boats have their ailments too and your
doctor is as sound as a battleship. That's why he should have
gone down with his patient, like the doctor on his ship.
MRS. SMITH Ali! I never thought of it that way. Perhaps it's
true. So what's your point?
S

MR. SMITH That all doctors are quacks. And that goes for
their patients too. Only the Royal Navy can be trusted in
Great Britain.
MRS. SMITH But not marines!
MR. SMITH Indeed!
Pause.
MR. SMITH (still reading his newspaper.) Something I've never
understood. Given their interest in civilized society, why do
newspapers always print the ages of the deceased and not the
new born? It doesn't make sense!
MRS. SMITH I never thought of it before!
Another moment of silence. The clocks strikes seven times. Silence.
The clock strikes three times. Silence. The clock doesn't strike at all.
MR. SMITH (head in the papers) Good grief, it says Bobby
Watson died.
MRS. SMITH My God, the poor chap, when did he die?
MR. SMITH Why do you sound so surprised? You know
perfectly well he's been dead for two years. You remember,
we went to his funeral, a year and a half ago.
MRS. SMITH Of course I remember. How could I forget? I
just don't understand your surprise at reading it in the paper.
MR. SMITH It wasn't in the paper. It's been three years since
we've mentioned his death. Can't a fellow free-associate?
MRS. SMITH What a shame! He was so well preserved.
MR. SMITH The most smashing corpse in Great Britain! He
didn't look his age. Poor Bobby, it's been four years since
he died and he's still warm. A truly unruly cadaver. What a
gay blade!
6

MRS. SMITH Poor Bobby.

MR. SMITH Which poor Bobby do you mean?
 MRS. SMITH Why, his wife. Like him, she was also called
Bobby, Bobby Watson. Because they had the same name,
you could never tell them apart when you saw them
together. It was only after he died that you could tell which
was which. There are still those, to this very day, who
confuse her with her dead husband and then offer their
condolences. Do you know her?
MR. SMITH We only bumped into each other once, by
chance. At Bobby's funeral.
MRS. SMITH I've never met her. Is she pretty?
MR. SMITH Her features are conventional so you can't call
her a beauty. She's too tall and tubby. Her features aren't
conventional, making her a real beauty. She's a bit too small
and scrawny. She's a voice teacher.
The clock strikes five times. A long silence.
MRS. SMITH And when do you think they'll get married?
MR. SMITH Next spring or later.
MRS. SMITH We'll have to go to their wedding.
MR. SMITH And we'll have to buy them a wedding present. I
wonder what they'd like.
MRS. SMITH Why don't we give them one of the seven
silver salad servers we got at our wedding. We've never
used them, not even once.
A brief silence. The clock strikes twice.
MRS. SMITH It's a shame she was widowed so young.
7

MR. SMITH Luckily, they didn't have children.

MRS. SMITH That's all they would have needed! Children!
The poor woman, what would she have done with them?
MR. SMITH She's still young. Perhaps she'll remarry.
Mourning becomes her.
MRS. SMITH But then who'll take care of the children? You
know perfectly well they have a son and a daughter. What
are their names, again?
MR. SMITH Bobby and Bobby, like their parents. Bobby
Watson's uncle, old Bobby Watson, is rich and he dotes on
the boy. He could easily foot the bill for Bobby's education.
MRS. SMITH It's the proper thing to do. And Bobby
Watson's aunt, doddery Bobby Watson, could pay for the
education of Bobby Watson, the daughter of Bobby
 Watson. That way, Bobby Watson's mother, Bobby, would
be free to remarry. Does she have anyone in mind?
MR. SMITH Yes, one of Bobby Watson's cousins.
MRS. SMITH Which one? Bobby Watson?
MR. SMITH Which Bobby Watson to you mean?
MRS. SMITH Bobby Watson, the son of old Bobby Watson,
the other uncle of Bobby Watson, the deceased.
MR. SMITH No, not him, the other one. Bobby Watson, the
son of doddery Bobby Watson, the aunt of Bobby Watson,
the deceased.
MRS. SMITH Are you talking about Bobby Watson the
traveling salesman?
MR. SMITH All the Bobby Watsons are traveling salesmen!
MRS. SMITH Tough business. One can do well, however.
8

MR. SMITH Yes, when there's no competition.

MRS. SMITH And when is there no competition?
MR. SMITH Tuesdays, Thursdays and Tuesdays.
MRS. SMITH Ah! Three days a week? And how does Bobby
Watson spend them?
MR. SMITH He takes it easy, he naps.
MRS. SMITH But why doesn't he work those three days if
there's no competition?
MR. SMITH I don't know everything! I can't answer all your
bloody questions!
MRS. SMITH (hurt) Are you trying to humiliate me?
MR. SMITH (all smiles) Who, me? Never!
MRS. SMITH Men! You're all alike! You lie around all day,
cigarette dangling from your mouth or powdering your
nose and painting your lips fifty times a day-that is, if
you're not drinking yourself under the table!
MR. SMITH Well, what would you say if you saw men acting
like women? Smoking all day, powdering their noses,
smearing on lipstick and guzzling whiskey?
MRS. SMITH I don't give a bloody damn! You're just trying
to get my goat. I hate it when you kid around and you
know it!
She throws her socks across the room and bares her teeth. She rises.
Mr. Smith approaches her and speaks tenderly.
*Author's note: In the Nicolas Bataille production Mrs. Smith didn't
 bare her teeth or throw her socks very far.
9

MR. SMITH Oh, my little guinea hen, why are you ruffling
your feathers? You know I'm just teasing you. (He takes her
by the waist and kisses her.) What a ridiculous pair of old
lovebirds we are! Come, let's turn out the lights and go
beddy-byes!
SCENE II
The Smiths and MARY
MARY (entering) I'm the maid. I just had the most delightful
afternoon. I went to the pictures with a chap and saw a film
with some ladies. After the picture we stopped for a spot of
brandy and milk and read the newspaper.
MRS. SMITH I hope you had a delightful afternoon, that you
went to the pictures with a chap and then stopped for a spot
of brandy and milk.
MR. SMITH Don't forget the newspaper!
MARY Your guests, Mr. and Mrs. Martin, are at the door.
They're waiting for me. They don't dare come in,
unannounced. They're supposed to dine with you this
evening.
MRS. SMITH Ali yes. We were expecting them. We're
starving. Since they didn't show up, we were going to eat
without them. We haven't had a bite all day. You shouldn't
have deserted us!
MARY But I went with your blessing.
MR. SMITH I wasn't thinking!
Mary bursts out laughing. Then she cries, then she smiles.
MARY I bought myself a chamber pot!
io

MRS. SMITH My dear Mary, would you be good enough to

open the door and show Mr. and Mrs. Martin in? We'll
change in a jiffy.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith exit to the right. Mary opens the door on the left
and MR. and MRS. MARTIN enter.
SCENE III
Mary and the Martins
MARY Why are you so late! It's extremely rude. You're
supposed to be on time. Understand? You can take a seat
 over there and wait.
She exits.
SCENE IV
The Martins without Mary
Mr. and Mrs. Martin sit across from each other without speaking.
They exchange shy smiles. The following dialogue should be spoken in
voices that are sluggish, monotonous, somewhat singsong, without
nuance. *
MR. MARTIN Begging your pardon, dear lady, but unless I'm
mistaken I feel I've met you before.
MRS. MARTIN Me too, dear sir, I feel I've met you before.
MR. MARTIN Could I have spotted you, dear lady, at
Manchester, by any chance?
MRS. MARTIN It's entirely possible. I'm from the city of
Manchester, but I have a poor memory, dear sir, so I can't
say whether we spotted each other there or not.
*Author's note: In the Nicolas Bataille production the scene was played
and spoken in a sincerely tragic style.
II

MR. MARTIN Good God, how baffling! I'm originally from

the city of Manchester too, dear lady!
MRS. MARTIN Most baffling!
MR. MARTIN Most baffling, indeed! Because I left the city of
Manchester about five weeks ago, dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN How baffling! And what a bizarre
coincidence! I too left the city of Manchester about five
weeks ago, dear sir.
MR. MARTIN I took the 8:30 morning train that arrived in
London at 4:45, dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN How baffling! How bizarre! And what a
coincidence! I took the very same train, dear sir!
MR. MARTIN Good God! How baffling! Then perhaps I saw
you on the train?
MRS. MARTIN It's entirely possible, it's not out of the
question, it's plausible and why not? But alas, I don't
remember, dear sir!
MR. MARTIN I traveled second class, dear lady. Of course
there is no second class in Great Britain, but I make a point
of traveling second class just the same.
MRS. MARTIN How bizarre, how baffling and what a
 coincidence! I too traveled second class, dear sir!
MR. MARTIN Most baffling indeed! Then perhaps we met in
second class, my dear lady!
MRS. MARTIN It's possible, more than possible, but alas, I
don't remember very well, my dear sir!
MR. MARTIN My seat was in coach number eight,
compartment six, dear lady.
12

MRS. MARTIN How baffling! My seat was also in coach

number eight, compartment six, my dear sir!
MR. MARTIN Most baffling and what a bizarre coincidence!
Then perhaps we bumped into each other in compartment
six, my dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN It's entirely possible, after all! But alas, I don't
remember, my dear sir!
MR. MARTIN To tell you the truth, my dear lady, I don't
remember either, but it's possible we saw each other there
and if I put on my thinking cap, it seems entirely probable!
MRS. MARTIN I say! Indeed! Well done! Jolly good, dear sir!
MR. MARTIN How baffling! I had seat number three, next to
the window, my dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN Good God, how baffling and how bizarre! I
had seat number six, next to the window, across from you,
my dear sir.
MR. MARTIN Good God, indeed! How baffling and what a
coincidence! ... Then we were sitting face-to-face, my
dear lady. That is where we must have met!
MRS. MARTIN How baffling! It is possible, but alas I don't
remember, dear sir.
MR. MARTIN To tell the truth, I don't remember either, my
dear lady. However, it's entirely possible we saw each other
then.
MRS. MARTIN You've got a point, but I can't be sure, dear sir.
MR. MARTIN Weren't you the woman, my dear lady, who
asked me to lift her bag up to the luggage rack, then
thanked me kindly and gave me permission to smoke?
t3

MRS. MARTIN Of course! It must have been me, dear sir!

How baffling, how very baffling, and what a coincidence!
 MR. MARTIN Most baffling, bizarre and what a coincidence!
So perhaps we met at that very moment, dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN How baffling and what a coincidence! It's
entirely possible, my dear sir! However, I don't believe I
remember.
MR. MARTIN Nor do I, dear lady.
A moment of silence.
The clock strikes twice and then once.
MR. MARTIN Since coming to London I've been living in
Bromfield Street, my dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN How baffling, and how bizarre! I too have
been living in Bromfield Street since coming to London,
my dear sir.
MR. MARTIN How baffling, but then, but then, perhaps we
met on Bromfield Street, my dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN How baffling and how bizarre! It's entirely
possible after all, but alas, I don't remember, my dear sir.
MR. MARTIN I live at number 19, my dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN How baffling, I also live at number 19, my dear
sir.
MR. MARTIN But then, but then, but then, but then, but
then perhaps we met there, my dear lady?
MRS. MARTIN It's entirely possible, but alas, I don't
remember, my dear sir.
MR. MARTIN My flat is on the fifth floor, number eight, my
dear lady.
14

MRS. MARTIN How baffling! My God, how bizarre! I also

live on the fifth floor, in flat number eight, my dear sir!
MR. MARTIN (thoughtfully) How baffling, how baffling, how
baffling and what a coincidence! I have a bed in my room,
you know. The bed is covered with a green duvet. This
room with its bed and green duvet is at the bottom of the
hall, between the library and the loo, my dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN What a coincidence, oh my God, what a
coincidence! My bedroom also has a bed covered with a
green duvet and it too is at the bottom of the hall, between
the library and the loo, my dear sir!
MR. MARTIN How bizarre, baffling and beyond the pale!
Then, dear lady, we live in the same room and sleep in the
 same bed, my dear lady. Perhaps that is where we bumped
into each other.
MRS. MARTIN How baffling and what a coincidence! It's
entirely possible we met there and perchance even last
night. But I don't remember, my dear sir!
MR. MARTIN I have a little girl, my little daughter who lives
with me, my dear lady. She's two years old and blonde. She
has one white eye and one red eye. She's very pretty and
her name is Alice, my dear lady.
MRS. MARTIN What a bizarre coincidence! I also have a little
girl who's two years old with one white eye and one red
eye who's very pretty and named Alice, my dear sir!
MR. MARTIN (in the same sluggish monotone) How baffling and
what a coincidence! How bizarre! Perhaps they are one and
the same, my dear lady!
MRS. MARTIN Most baffling indeed! It's entirely possible, my
dear sir.
Is

A long moment of silence.

The clock then strikes twenty-nine times. Having pondered these
events, Mr. Martin slowly rises, moving toward Mrs. Martin.
Surprised by his solemnity, she quietly rises to meet him
MR. MARTIN (in that same strange, singsong monotone) Then,
my dear lady, there's no doubt we have met before and you
are my lawful wife... . Elizabeth, at last I have found you!
Mrs. Martin slowly approaches Mr. Martin. They embrace without
feeling. The clock strikes one very loud stroke. It's so loud it should
make the audience jump. The Martins, however, don't hear it
MRS. MARTIN Donald, darling, it's you!
They sit in the same chair, and fall asleep, still kissing. The clock
strikes several more times. Mary quietly tiptoes into the room, her
finger on her lips, and addresses the audience
SCENE V
Mr. and Mrs. Martin and Mary
MARY Elizabeth and Donald are too over the moon to hear
me, so I can let you in on a secret. Elizabeth is not
Elizabeth and Donald is not Donald. And here's the proof
the little girl Donald was talking about is not Elizabeth's
daughter, they're not one and the same. Donald's daughter
has one white eye and one red eye, like Elizabeth's
 daughter, but Donald's child has a white right eye and a red
left eye, whereas Elizabeth's child has a red right eye and a
white left eye. So his entire argument goes up in smoke
when it hits this loophole, turning his theory into dust and
ashes. In spite of the extraordinary coincidences which seem
rock solid, Donald and Elizabeth, not being the parents of
the same child, are not Donald and Elizabeth. He can fancy
r6

he's Donald; she can fancy she's Elizabeth. He can fancy

she's Elizabeth and she can fancy he's Donald, but both are
sadly deluded. Then who is the real Donald, you ask? And
who is the real Elizabeth? Who wants to prolong this
agony? It beats me. I say we drop the whole affair and leave
things as they are. (taking several steps toward the door, then
facing the audience.) In case you're interested, my real name is
Sherlock Holmes.
She exits.
SCENE VI
The Martins without Mary
The clock strikes as often as it likes. Mr. and Mrs. Martin separate
after a few moments and return to their former seats.
MR. MARTIN Let's forget everything that hasn't happened
between us, darling. Now that we're together, let's try not
to lose each other again and continue on our merry way.
MRS. MARTIN Yes, darling.
SCENE VII
The Martins and the Smiths
Mr. and Mrs. Smith enter from the right without having changed their
clothes.
MRS. SMITH Good evening, dear friends! Forgive us for
making you wait so long, but we wanted to show you the
courtesy you so richly deserve. The moment we learned
you were coming, without giving us so much as a peep of
warning, we rushed to change into black tie and tails.
17

MR. SMITH (furious) We haven't eaten all day! You've kept

us waiting for four hours. Why are you so late?
Mr. and Mrs. Smith sit facing their guests. The clock mimics the
tension between them and strikes accordingly. The Martins are
embarrassed and shy, particularly Mrs. Martin. Their conversation
begins awkwardly. They have a hard time getting their words out.
There's an agonizing silence which is followed by a string of painful
lapses and hesitations.
MR. SMITH Hm.
Silence.
MRS. SMITH Hm, hm.
Silence.
MRS. MARTIN Hm, hm, hm.
Silence.
MR. MARTIN Hm, hm, hm, hm.
Silence.
MRS. MARTIN Absolutely!
Silence.
MR. MARTIN We all have colds.
Silence.
MR. SMITH Yet it's not cold outside.
Silence.
MRS. SMITH There's no draft.
Silence.
MR. MARTIN Thank our lucky stars!
18

Silence.
MR. SMITH My oh my, oh my, oh my.
Silence.
MR. MARTIN Are you depressed?
Silence.
MRS. SMITH No, he's bored shitless.
Silence.
MRS. MARTIN Oh sir, at your age, really!
Silence.
MR. SMITH The heart is ageless.
Silence.
MR. MARTIN It's true.
Silence.
MRS. SMITH So they say.
Silence.
MRS. MARTIN They also say the opposite.
Silence.
MR. SMITH The truth lies somewhere in between.
 Silence.
MR. MARTIN Right you are!
Silence.
MRS. SMITH (to the Martins) Since you travel so much you
must have a lot of interesting stories up your sleeve.
r9

MR. MARTIN (to his wife) Tell them what you saw today,
darling?
MRS. MARTIN It's not worth it, they'd never believe me.
MR. SMITH We wouldn't doubt you for a moment!
MRS. SMITH You insult us if that's what you think.
MR. MARTIN (to his wife) You'll insult them, if that's what
you think...
MRS. MARTIN (graciously) All right. I saw something
extraordinary today, really incredible.
MR. MARTIN Quick, spit it out, my dear.
MR. SMITH Ah, we're going to be entertained.
MRS. SMITH Finally!
MRS. MARTIN Here goes ... While I was out shopping to
buy some vegetables, which are getting increasingly dear .
MRS. SMITH Where will it end?
MR. SMITH Don't interrupt, my love. Nasty, nasty!
MRS. MARTIN I saw a man in the street next to a cafe,
conservatively dressed, around fifty or so who ...
MR. SMITH Who what?
MRS. SMITH Who what?
MR. SMITH (to his wife) Don't interrupt, my love. You're
being disgusting.
MRS. SMITH You interrupted first, my pet. You boor!
MR. MARTIN That's enough! (to his wife) And what was this
man doing?
20

MRS. MARTIN You're going to say I made it up. He was

down on one knee and he was bending over.
THE OTHERS Oh!
MRS. MARTIN Yes, bending over.
MR. SMITH Impossible!
MRS. MARTIN He was bending over. I crept closer to see
what he was doing...
 MR. SMITH And?
MRS. MARTIN He was tying his shoelace, which had come
undone.
THE OTHERS Fantastic!
MR. SMITH If it hadn't come from your lips, I wouldn't
believe it.
MR. MARTIN Why not? One sees much more extraordinary
things out there. For example, when I was in the tube today
I saw a man sitting in his seat, quietly reading the
newspaper.
MRS. SMITH What an odd duck!
MR. SMITH Maybe it was the same man!
The doorbell rings.
MR. SMITH Good grief, the doorbell.
MRS. SMITH There must be someone there. I'll go and see.
(She goes to the door, opens it, peers out, then closes it and
returns.) Nobody.
She sits back down.
MR. MARTIN Let me give you another example...
21

The doorbell rings.

MR. SMITH Good grief, the doorbell.
MRS. SMITH There must be someone there. I'll go and see.
(She goes to the door, opens it, peers out, then closes it and
returns.) Nobody.
She sits back down.
MR. MARTIN (struggling to remember where he was) Uh, uh,
uh...
MRS. MARTIN You said you were going to give us another
example.
MR. MARTIN Ali yes!
The doorbell rings.
MR. SMITH Good grief, the doorbell.
MRS. SMITH I'm not going to answer it.
MR. SMITH Yes, but someone must be there!
MRS. SMITH The first time there was nobody. The second
time, nobody. What makes you think someone's there
now?
MR. SMITH Because they rang!
MRS. MARTIN That's no reason.
 MR. MARTIN What are you talking about? When you hear
the doorbell ring, it means someone's at the door. They
rang so you'd let them in.
MRS. MARTIN Not always, as you just saw.
MR. MARTIN But in most cases, yes.
22

MR. SMITH Whenever I visit someone, I ring the bell to get

in. It's what people do! When the doorbell rings, it means
someone's there!
MRS. SMITH It's true in theory. But in reality, things are
different, as you just saw.
MRS. MARTIN Your wife is right.
MR. MARTIN Oh, you women! You're always sticking u � for
each other.
MRS. SMITH All right, I'll go check again. You can't say I'm
not game, but you'll see, no one will be there! (She goes to
the door, peers out and closes it.) What did I tell you? Nobody.
(She returns to her seat.)
MRS. MARTIN Ah men! They always think they're right, and
they're always wrong!
The doorbell rings.
MR. SMITH Good grief, the doorbell. Someone must be
there.
MRS. SMITH (in a fit of rage) Don't send me to that bloody
door again! As you've seen it's pointless! We've learned
from experience that whenever you hear the doorbell ring,
no one's ever there.
MRS. MARTIN Never.
MR. MARTIN That's not always true.
MR. SMITH In fact, it's false! Usually when you hear the
doorbell, it means someone is there.
MRS. SMITH He can't admit he's wrong.
MRS. MARTIN My husband is pigheaded too.
MR. SMITH Someone is there.
23

MR. MARTIN It's not impossible.

MRS. SMITH (to her husband) No.
MR. SMITH Yes.
MRS. SMITH I said, no! In any case, you're not going to
 bother me again for nothing. If you want to make sure, go
see for yourself!
MR. SMITH I'm going.
Mrs. Smith shrugs her shoulders. Mrs. Martin nods her head
MR. SMITH *(opening the door) Tiens!Je suis enchante de vous
voir! (glancing at the others, who look surprised) It's the Fire
Captain!
SCENE VIII
The Smiths, the Martins and the FIRE CAPTAIN
THE FIRE CAPTAIN (in uniform, of course, wearing an enormous
shiny helmet) Good day, ladies and gentlemen.
They gape at him, astonished. Mrs. Smith is furious and looks away,
refusing to acknowledge him.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Good day, Mrs. Smith, you seem angry.
MRS. SMITH Oh!
MR. SMITH As you see, my wife is a bit miffed at having
been proved wrong.
MR. MARTIN There's been a running argument between Mr.
and Mrs. Smith, Captain.
*Translator's note: Whenever the dialogue appears in English, it's trans-
lated into French.
24

MRS. SMITH (to Mr. Martin) It's none of your business! (to
Mr. Smith) How many times do I have to tell you not to
drag strangers into our family squabbles!
MR. SMITH Calm down, my pet, it's not serious. The Fire
Captain is an old friend of the family's. His mother courted
me and I knew his father. He wanted to marry my daughter
if I ever had one. And he died waiting.
MR. MARTIN It's neither his fault, nor yours.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN All right, what's going on?
MRS. SMITH My husbandwas claiming ...
MR. SMITH No, it was you who were claiming ...
MR. MARTIN Yes, it was her.
MRS. MARTIN No, it was him.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Don't get your knickers in a twist. Just
tell me what happened, Mrs. Smith.
MRS. SMITH All right, here goes. I'm a bit wary of letting my
hair down with you, but then again a fireman is also a
confessor.
 THE FIRE CAPTAIN Go on.
MRS. SMITH We were arguing because my husband said
whenever you hear the doorbell ring, there's always
someone there.
MR. MARTIN It's plausible.
MRS. SMITH And I said, every time you hear the doorbell
ring, no one is there.
MRS. MARTIN It might seem strange.
25

MRS. SMITH But it's been proven. Not by theoretical

woolgathering, but by hard facts.
MR. SMITH Not true, because the Fire Captain is here. He
rang the bell, I opened the door and there he was.
MRS. MARTIN When?

MR. MARTIN Just now.

MRS. SMITH Yes, but it was only after hearing it ring four
times that you found someone there. And the fourth time
doesn't count.
MRS. MARTIN Exactly! Only the first three times count.
MR. SMITH Let me ask you a few questions, Captain.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Be my guest.
MR. SMITH When I opened the door and saw you, was it
you who had rung the bell?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Yes, it was me.
MR. MARTIN You were at the door. And you rang to get in.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN I can't deny it.
MR. SMITH (to his wife, victoriously) You see? I was right!
When you hear the doorbell, it's because somebody is there.
And you can't claim the Fire Captain's not somebody!
MRS. SMITH Certainly not. But let me repeat I was only
speaking about the first three times because the fourth one
doesn't count.
MRS. MARTIN And when the doorbell rang the first time,
was it you?
26

THE FIRE CAPTAIN No, it wasn't me.

MRS. MARTIN You see? The doorbell rang and no one was
there.
MR. MARTIN Perhaps it was someone else?
 MR. SMITH Were you at the door a long time?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Three quarters of an hour.
MR. SMITH And you saw no one?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Nobody. I'm sure.
MRS. MARTIN Did you hear the doorbell ring the second
time?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Yes, but that wasn't me either. Nobody
was ever there.
MRS. SMITH Victory! I was right!
MR. SMITH (to his wife) Not so fast. (to the Fire Captain) And
what were you doing at the door?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Nothing. I was taking it easy. I had a lot
on my mind.
MR. MARTIN But the third time, wasn't that you who rang?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Yes, it was me.
MR. SMITH But when we opened the door, we didn't see
you.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN That's because I was hiding. I was
playing a joke.
MRS. SMITH This isn't a laughing matter, Captain. It's a very
sad affair.
27

MR. MARTIN Nevertheless when the doorbell rings, we still

don't know whether someone is there or not.
MRS. SMITH Never anyone.
MR. SMITH Always someone.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN I'm going to settle it once and for all.
You're both partially right. When the doorbell rings,
sometimes someone is there and other times no one is
there.
MR. MARTIN It seems logical to me.
MRS. MARTIN Me too.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Actually, it's all very simple. (to the
Smiths) Go on, kiss and make up.
MRS. SMITH We just kissed a little while ago.
MR. MARTIN They'll kiss tomorrow. They have plenty of
time.
MRS. SMITH Now that you've helped us shed light on all
this, make yourself comfortable, Captain. Take off your
helmet and sit down for a minute.
 THE FIRE CAPTAIN Forgive me, but I can't stay long. I'd like
to take off my helmet, but I don't have time to sit down.
(He sits down but doesn't take off his helmet.) I have to confess
I came for other reasons. I'm on official business.
MRS. SMITH And what can we do for you, Captain?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN I beg you to forgive my impudence...
(stricken with embarrassment) My uh ... uh ... (pointing to the
Martins) May I ... I mean, in front of them ...
MRS. MARTIN Feel free.

MR. MARTIN We're old friends. We tell each other

everything.
MR. SMITH Carry on.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN All right, here goes. Is there a fire here?
MRS. SMITH Why do you ask?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Because ... begging your pardon ...
because I have orders to extinguish all fires in the city.
MRS. MARTIN All of them?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Yes, each and every one.
MRS. SMITH (confused) I don't know... . I don't think so.
Would you care to have a look around?
MR. SMITH (sniffing the air) There can't be one here. I don't
smell anything burning.*
THE FIRE CAPTAIN (upset) Nothing at all? A small chimney
i f re? Something smoldering in the attic or basement? A few
sparks starting to fly?
MRS. SMITH Listen, I don't want to disappoint you, but I'm
afraid we have nothing at the moment. I promise to let you
know the moment we do.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Don't forget! It would be a big help.
MRS. SMITH It's a promise.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN (to the Martins) And nothing's burning at
your house either?
MRS. MARTIN Alas, no.
*Author's note: in the Nicolas Bataille production Mr. and Mrs. Mar-
tin sniffed as well.
29

MR. MARTIN (to the Fire Captain) Things are looking pretty
grim.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Grim and grimmer. There's nothing out
 there, just chicken feed-a chimney here, a barn there.
Nothing big. It doesn't bring anything in. Because there's
no yield, the profits on returns are negligible.
MR. SMITH Times are tough. It's the same everywhere.
Business, agriculture ... It's like your fires this year,
nothing's happening.
MR. MARTIN No wheat, no fires.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN No floods either.
MRS. SMITH But we have sugar.
MR. SMITH Because it's imported.
MRS. MARTIN Fires are trickier. Taxes are sky high.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Please! There's an occasional
asphyxiation by gas but it's rare. A young woman
asphyxiated herself last week because she left the gas on.
MRS. MARTIN She forgot to turn it off?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN No, she thought it was her peignoir.

MR. SMITH These mix-ups are always dangerous!

MRS. SMITH Did you call on the match maker?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Nothing doing! He's insured against fire.
MR. MARTIN Feel free to visit the Vicar of Wakefield and use
my name.

THE FIRE CAPTAIN I don't have the jurisdiction to put out

i fres set by priests. The Bishop would get angry. They put
30

out their own fires or else have them extinguished by vestal

virgins.
MR. SMITH Try and contact the Durands.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN I can't do that either. He's not British.
He's only naturalized. Naturalized citizens have the right to
own houses, but not to save them if they catch fire.
MRS. SMITH Yet when a house went up in flames last year, it
was extinguished just the same!
THE FIRE CAPTAIN They took care of it by themselves. Under
cover of night. Don't look at me, I wouldn't breathe a word.
MR. SMITH Me either.
MRS. SMITH Since you have time on your hands, stay a bit
longer, Captain. It would give us such pleasure.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Would you like me to tell you some
stories?
MRS. SMITH Oh, please do! You're charming.
 She kisses him.
THE OTHERS Yes, yes! Stories! Bravo!
They applaud.
MR. SMITH What makes them so interesting is firemen's
stories are always true. They've been lived.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN I only talk about my own experience.
The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. No
i fction.
MR. MARTIN That's right. Truth isn't found in books, only
in life.
31

MRS. SMITH Begin!

MR. MARTIN Begin!
MRS. MARTIN Shhhh! He's beginning.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN (coughing a few times) Please! Don't look
at me that way. You're embarrassing me. You know I'm
shy.
MRS. SMITH Isn't he charming?
She kisses him again.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN All right, I'll try to start again, but
promise you won't listen.
MRS. MARTIN But if we don't listen, we won't be able to
hear you.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN I hadn't thought of that!
MRS. SMITH I told you. He's just a boy.
MR. MARTIN and MR. SMITH Oh, the dear child.
They kiss him.*
MRS. MARTIN Stiff upper lip!
THE FIRE CAPTAIN All right, here goes. (coughing a few more
times, then speaking in a voice trembling with emotion) "The
Dog and the Ox," an experimental fable. Once upon a
time, another ox asked another dog, "Why haven't you
swallowed your trunk?" "Forgive me," replied the dog,
"It's because I thought I was an elephant."
MRS. MARTIN And what's the moral?
*Author's note: In the Nicolas Bataille production Mr. Martin and Mr.
Smith did not kiss him.
32

THE FIRE CAPTAIN That's for you to sort out.

 MR. SMITH He's right.
MRS. SMITH (furious) Tell us another!
THE FIRE CAPTAIN A young calf ate too much ground glass.
As a result he had to give birth. A cow was born. Because
the calf was male, this cow couldn't call him "Mother."
And she certainly couldn't call him "Father" because he was
too young. The calf was then obliged to get married to
someone so the county clerk made every effort to dot his i's
and cross his t's.
MR. SMITH *How do you cross a t?
MR. MARTIN With a stroke.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN But if he has a stroke, he'll die.
MRS. SMITH Poor thing.
MRS. MARTIN I can't dot my T's, but I can cross my eyes.
Look! (She crosses them.)
Everyone gasps, then silence.
FIRE CAPTAIN I'll tell you another one. "The Cock." Once
upon a time there was a cock who wanted to play the dog.
But he didn't have a chance because he was recognized
right away.
MRS. SMITH On the other hand, the dog who wanted to
play the cock was never recognized.
MR. SMITH Now it's my turn. I want to tell one. "The Snake
and the Fox." Once upon a time a snake approached a fox
*Translator's note: Since the Smiths and Martins wouldn't indulge in
French wordplay, this is a British rendering of their exchange.
33

and said, "I think I know you!" The fox replied, "I think I
know you too." "Then hand over some money," the snake
said. "But a fox doesn't handle money," replied the clever
creature, who beat a hasty retreat by jumping into a deep
valley full of strawberries and apiaries. The snake was waiting
for him, however, laughing a Mephistophelian laugh. The
fox pulled out his knife, yelling, "I'm going to teach you
how to live!" at which point he turned tail and fled. But he
didn't have a prayer. The snake was quicker. With a well-
chosen blow, he hit the fox smack in the forehead which,
then broke into a thousand pieces as he cried, "No! No! No!
No! No! No! I am not your daughter!"*
MRS. MARTIN Interesting.
 MRS. SMITH Not bad.
MR. MARTIN (shaking Mr. Smith's hand) My congratulations.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN (jealous) It wasn't so great. Plus I'd heard
it before.
MR. SMITH It was terrible.
MRS. SMITH It wasn't even true.
MRS. MARTIN But alas, it was.

MR. MARTIN (to Mrs. Smith) And now it's your turn, dear
lady.
MRS. SMITH I only know one. Here goes. It's called, "The
Bouquet."
MR. SMITH My wife has always been a romantic.
*Author's note: In the Nicolas Bataille production Mr. Smith mimed
this speech without saying a word.
34

MR. MARTIN A dyed-in-the-wool Englishwoman!*

MRS. SMITH All right! Once upon a time a man gave his
fiancee a bouquet. She said "Thank you," but before she
could get the words out of her mouth, he snatched it back
to teach her a lesson, saying, "Hand it over!" Then he bid
her farewell, tucked it under his arm and disappeared over
the horizon.
MR. MARTIN Charming!
He might kiss Mrs. Smith or not.
MRS. MARTIN Mr. Smith, you have a wife who makes us
green with envy.
MR. SMITH It's true, my wife is intelligence personified.
She's far more intelligent than I am. She's also more
feminine. Or so they say.

MRS. SMITH Tell us another, Captain.

THE FIRE CAPTAIN No, it's getting late.
MR. MARTIN Tell us one anyway.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN I'm too tired.
MR. SMITH Come on, be a good egg.
MR. MARTIN Please?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN No.
MRS. MARTIN You have a heart of ice. We're sitting on hot
coals!
*Author's note: In the Nicolas Bataille production these two phrases
were repeated three times.
 35

MRS. SMITH (falling to her knees, sobbing, or not) I'm begging

you!
THE FIRE CAPTAIN If you insist.
MR. SMITH (in Mrs. Martin's ear) He agreed! He's going to
bore us again.
MRS. MARTIN Bloody hell!
MRS. SMITH Just my luck. I was too polite.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN "The head cold": My brother-in-law on
my father's side had a first cousin whose maternal uncle had
a father-in-law whose paternal grandfather had taken an
aborigine as his second wife, a young woman whose brother
he met on his travels, a girl he was mad about, with whom
he had a son who married a fearless female pharmacist who
was none other than the niece of an unknown fourth-class
petty officer of the Royal Navy whose adoptive father had
an aunt who spoke fluent Spanish, who might have been
one of the granddaughters of an electrical engineer who
died young, who was himself the owner of a vineyard
which produced second-rate wine, but who had a second
cousin, an agoraphobic, a sergeant-major whose son had
married a bombshell, a divorcee, whose first husband was
the son of a loyal patriot, who, eager to strike it rich, raised
one of his daughters to marry a big game hunter who knew
Rothschild, whose brother, after flitting from one job to
another, married, and had a daughter whose great-
grandfather, a midget, wore spectacles which were given to
him by one of his cousins, the brother-in-law of a
Portuguese, if you please-the natural son of a pastry chef
who was pretty well-off,, whose foster brother married the
daughter of a former country doctor who was himself the
foster brother of the son of a dairy farmer who happened to
36

be the natural son of another country doctor, married three

times in a row, whose third wife ...
MR. MARTIN I knew his third wife, if I'm not mistaken.
She dined on roast chicken in a hornet's nest.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN It's not the same one.
MRS. SMITH Settle down!
THE FIRE CAPTAIN As I was saying ... whose third wife was
the daughter of the best midwife in the area who was
widowed before her time ...
MR. SMITH Like my wife.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN . who remarried a glass blower with
get-up-and-go, who had a child with the daughter of a
stationmaster, who tripped the light fantastic ...
MRS. SMITH Turned to feats gymnastic ...
MR. MARTIN Then took his vows monastic...
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Having married a greengrocer whose
father had a brother, mayor of a small village, married to
a blonde nursery school teacher whose cousin, a fly
i fsherman ...
MR. MARTIN A fly on the wall?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN . had wed another blonde nursery
school teacher, also named Marie whose brother was
married to a Marie as well, who also happened to be a
blonde nursery school teacher ...
MR. SMITH Because she's blonde, she must be Marie.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN . whose father had been raised in
Canada by an old woman who was the niece of a priest
37

whose grandmother, like everyone else in the winter,

sometimes caught a cold.
MRS. SMITH A curious tale. Almost unbelievable.
MR. MARTIN If you catch cold, you must wrap it up.
MR. SMITH It's a useless precaution, but absolutely necessary.
MRS. MARTIN Excuse me, Captain, but I didn't completely
understand your story. When you got to the grandmother
of the priest at the end, I got confused.
MR. SMITH One always gets confused in the hands of a priest.
MRS. SMITH Begin again, Captain! We beg of you.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Ah! I don't know if I can. I'm on duty.
It depends on what time it is.
MRS. SMITH We don't have the correct time, here.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN But what about the clock?
MR. SMITH It doesn't run well. It has a wayward streak.
When it strikes, the hour is always the opposite of what it's
supposed to be.
SCENE IX
 The Smiths, the Martins, the Fire Captain and Mary
MARY (entering) Ma'am, sir ...
MRS. SMITH What do you want?
MR. SMITH Why are you barging in here?
MARY Please excuse me, ma'am, sir and assorted ladies and
gentlemen, but I would like ... I would also like to tell a
story.
38

MRS. MARTIN What is she saying?

MR. MARTIN I think our friends' maid has flipped her lid.
She also wants to tell a story.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Who does she think she is? (looking at
her) Oh!
MRS. SMITH Why are you meddling in our affairs?
MR. SMITH You're out of bounds, Mary.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Oh, but it's her! Impossible!
MR. SMITH YOU too?
MARY Impossible! Here?
MRS. SMITH What is the meaning of this?
MR. SMITH You know each other?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Do we ever!
Mary throws herself at the Fire Captain. They're all over each other.
MARY I'm so happy to see you again... . At last!
MR. and MRS. SMITH Oh!
MR. SMITH This is too much, in our home, here in the
outskirts of London.
MRS. SMITH It's most inappropriate!
THE FIRE CAPTAIN She doused my very first flames.
MARY I'm his wet little water spout.
MR. MARTIN If this is the case, dear friends ... these feelings
are understandable, human, even honorable...
MRS. MARTIN All that is human is honorable.
39

MRS. SMITH Still, I don't like to see this sort of behavior

here ... among us.
MR. SMITH She wasn't properly raised...
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Oh, you're too prejudiced.
MRS. MARTIN Even though it's none of my business, I think
a maid is never anything but a maid.
 MR. MARTIN Even if she can pass for a good detective.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Give me a break.
MARY Relax! They're not all that bad.
MR. SMITH Hmmm ... hmmmm ... You two are very
sweet together, but still a touch, a touch ...
MR. MARTIN Yes, that's that right word.
MR. SMITH A touch too much.
MR. MARTIN Excuse me for thinking out loud again, but
there's an innate British reserve, not understood by
foreigners, even specialists, thanks to whom ... if I may
speak frankly ... I'm not referring to you, of course...
MARY Just let me tell you one tiny ...
MR. SMITH Not a word ...
MARY But I must!
MRS. SMITH Go, my little Mary ... go quietly into the
kitchen and read your poems in front of the mirror...
MR. MARTIN I say! Even though I'm not a maid I also read
poems in front of the mirror.
MRS. MARTIN When you looked in the mirror this morning,
you didn't see yourself.
40

MR. MARTIN That's because I wasn't there yet...

MARY Could I just recite one teensy-weensy poem for you?
MRS. SMITH My little Mary, you're as stubborn as dirt!
MARY I'm going to recite a poem then, it's settled. The
poem is titled "The Fire" in honor of the Fire Captain.
"The Fire"
The polycanders were burning in the woods
A stone caught fire
The castle caught fire
The forest caught fire
The men caught fire
The women caught fire
The birds caught fire
The fish caught fire
The water caught fire
The sky caught fire
The ashes caught fire
The smoke caught fire
The fire caught fire
 Everything caught fire
Caught fire, caught fire, caught fire ... etc.
She keeps reciting the poem as the Smiths push her offstage.
SCENE X
The Smiths, the Martins and the Fire Captain without Mary
MRS. MARTIN That sent chills down my spine...
MR. MARTIN It had a certain warmth, however...
THE FIRE CAPTAIN I thought it was first-rate.

MRS. SMITH Just the same ...

41

MR. SMITH You exaggerate...

THE FIRE CAPTAIN Listen, it's true ... it's all highly
subjective ... but it's my view of the world. My dream. My
ideal. Which reminds me, I have to go now. Since you
don't have the correct time, in exactly three quarters of an
hour and sixteen minutes, I have a fire on the other side of
town. I've got to get a wiggle on even though it won't
amount to much.
MRS. SMITH What will it be? A little chimney fire?
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Not even. A smoking grate and a touch
of heartburn.

MR. SMITH Well, we're sorry to see you go.

MRS. SMITH You've been most entertaining.
MRS. MARTIN Thanks to you, we've passed a thoroughly
Cartesian quarter of an hour.
THE FIRE CAPTAIN (going toward the door, then stopping)
Since we're on the subject, what do you make of the bald
soprano?
A general embarrassed silence.
MRS. SMITH She always styles her hair the same way!
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Ah! Then I bid you farewell...
Gentlemen ... Ladies.
MR. MARTIN Good luck and good fire!
THE FIRE CAPTAIN Let's hope so. For everyone's sake.
The Fire Captain exits. They see him to the door and then return to
their seats.
42

SCENE XI
The Smiths and the Martins without the Fire Captain
 MRS. MARTIN I can buy a pocketknife for my brother, but
you can't buy Ireland for your grandfather.
MR. SMITH We walk with our feet, but stay warm with
electricity or coal.
MRS. MARTIN Sell a bull today and tomorrow you'll have wool.
MRS. SMITH One must look out the window in life.
MRS. MARTIN We can sit in a chair, even if the chair doesn't
have any.
MR. SMITH Leave no stone unturned.
MR. MARTIN The ceiling is above, the floor is below.
MRS. SMITH When I say yes, it's a figure of speech.
MRS. MARTIN To each his own.
MR. SMITH Take a circle, caress it and it will become a
vicious circle.
MRS. SMITH A schoolmaster teaches children how to read,
but a cat suckles its kittens when they're young.

MRS. MARTIN Cows, however, turn on their tails.

MR. SMITH When I'm in the country I love the solitude and
quiet.
MR. MARTIN You're not old enough for that yet!
MRS. SMITH Benjamin Franklin was right: you're less relaxed
than he is.
MRS. MARTIN What are the seven days of the week?
43

MR. SMITH Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi, Jeudi, Vendredi, Samedi,

Dimanche.
MR. MARTIN Edouard est employe de banque, sa soeur Nanette est
secre'taire et son frere Guillaume est vendeur.
MRS. SMITH What a funny family!
MRS. MARTIN I prefer a bird in the bush to a sock in a clock.
MR. SMITH Don't bear malice toward Alice, drink milk in
the palace!
MR. MARTIN An Englishman's home is his true palace.
MRS. SMITH I don't know enough Spanish to be understood.
MRS. MARTIN I'll give you my mother-in-law's basket if you
give me your husband's casket.
MR. SMITH I'm looking for a monophysite priest to marry
our maid.
MR. MARTIN Bread is a tree whereas bread is also a tree and
an oak gives birth to another oak every single morning at
 the crack of dawn.
MRS. SMITH My uncle lives in the country, but that's none
of the midwife's business.
MR. MARTIN Paper is for writing, cats are for rats and cheese
is for scratching.
MRS. SMITH Cars go fast, but the cook beats better batter.
MR. SMITH Don't be duped, kiss the collaborator.
MR. MARTIN Charite bien ordonnee commence par soi-meme.
MRS. SMITH I'm waiting for the aqueduct to drop by at my
windmill.
44

MR. MARTIN It can be proved that social progress is better

sprinkled with sugar.
MR. SMITH Down with shoe polish!
The others fall into a stupefied silence after Mr. Smith's outburst.
Nerves are on edge. The striking of the clock mimics their agitation.
The speeches that follow should start with a glacial hostility that keeps
building. By the end of the scene the four of them should be standing
cheek by jowl, fists raised and screaming, on the verge of tearing each
other to bits.
MR. MARTIN You mustn't polish spectacles with black shoe
polish.
MRS. SMITH Yes, but money buys you anything you want.
MR. MARTIN I'd rather kill a rabbit than break a nasty habit.
MR. SMITH Cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos,
cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos,
cockatoos.
MRS. SMITH What a caa-caaphony, whit a caa-caaphony,
what a caa-caaphony, what a caa-caaphony, what a caa-
caaphony, what a caa-caaphony, what a caa-caaphony, what
a caa-caaphony, what a caa-caaphony.
MR. MARTIN Cascades of caa-caa, cascades of caa-caa,
cascades of caa-caa, cascades of caa-caa, cascades of caa-caa,
cascades of caa-caa, cascades of caa-caa, cascades of caa-caa.
MR. SMITH Dogs have fleas, dogs have fleas.
MRS. MARTIN Cactus! Coccyx! Crocus! Coxcomb!
Cockroach!
MRS. SMITH Caa-caafier, you have made caa-caa all over us.
MR. MARTIN I'd rather lay an egg than live in Winnipeg!
45
 MRS. MARTIN (opening her mouth very wide) Ah! Oh! Ah ! Oh!
I must gnash my teeth.
MR. SMITH Crocodile!
MR. MARTIN Let's go slap Ulysses in the face!
MR. SMITH I'm going to live in my cabana under my caa-caa
trees.
MRS. MARTIN Caa-caa trees in caa-caa groves don't bear
coconuts but caa-caa nuts! Caa-caa trees in caa-caa groves
don't bear coconuts but caa-caa nuts! Caa-caa trees in caa-
caa groves don't bear coconuts but caa-caa nuts!
MRS. SMITH Bats have bushy brows, but bushy brows aren't
bats.
MRS. MARTIN Don't flip my slippers.*
MR. MARTIN Slip me my flippers!
MR. SMITH Ship out the skippers, but don't tip the strippers.
MRS. MARTIN Bring on the kippers.
MRS. SMITH Zip up my knickers!
MR. MARTIN Whip the tripper, trip the whipper!
MR. SMITH Clip the snipper!
MRS. MARTIN Jack the Ripper!
MRS. SMITH You're quite the quipper!
MR. MARTIN We're all feeling chipper!
MR. SMITH Stiff upper lipper!
*Translator's note: Once again this is a British rendering of a thoroughly
French outburst.
46

MRS. MARTIN Saint Nitouche touched my slipper.

MRS. SMITH Don't touch it, it's broken.

MR. MARTIN James!

MR. SMITH Boswell!
MRS. MARTIN and MR. SMITH Edith!
MRS. SMITH and MR. MARTIN Sitwell!
MRS. MARTIN and MR. SMITH George!
MRS. SMITH and MR. MARTIN Orwell!
MRS. MARTIN Gooey gurgles galore, gooey gurgles galore!
MR. MARTIN Marietta, mind your pots!
MRS. SMITH Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!
MR. SMITH The pope eloped. The pope's no dope. It's not a
joke, but a slippery slope.
 MRS. MARTIN Byron, Browning, Beowulf!
MR. MARTIN Bizarre, baroque, brassiere!
MR. SMITH A,e,i,o,u; a,e,i,o,u; a,e,i,o,u!
MRS. MARTIN B,C,d,f,g,l,m,n,p,r,s,t,v,W,X,Z!
MR. MARTIN Ale has oil, but kale can't boil.
MRS. SMITH (imitating a train) Choo choo choo choo choo
choo choo choo choo choo, choo!
MR. SMITH Don't!
MRS. MARTIN Say!
MR. MARTIN They're!
47

MRS. SMITH There!

MR. SMITH I!
MRS. MARTIN Hear!
MR. MARTIN They're!
MRS. SMITH Here!
At the height of their fury, they all start screaming in each other's
ears. The lights go of In the darkness the rhythm of their cries picks
up speed.
ALL Don't say they're there, I hear they're here;
don't say they're there, I hear they're here;
don't say they're there, I hear they're here;
don't say they're there, I hear they're here;
don't say they're there, I hear they're here;
don't say they're there, I hear they're here!*
They stop abruptly. The lights return. Mr. and Mrs. Martin are
sitting like the Smiths at the beginning of the play. They start reciting
the Smiths' lines as the curtain slowly falls.
CURTAIN
*Author's note: In the Nicolas Bataille production some of these re-
sponses in the last scene were cut or transposed. It was after the hun-
dredth performance of The Bald Soprano that the author had the brilliant
idea of starting the play over again with Mr. and Mrs. Martin playing
the roles of Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
48
 The Lesson

The Lesson premiered at the Theatre de Poche on February 20,

1951 under the direction of Marcel Cuvelier, who also played
the role of The Professor.
THE CHARACTERS
THE PROFESSOR 5o to 60 Marvel Cuvelier
THE STUDENT 18 Rosette Zuchelli
THE MAID 45 to 50 Claude Mansard
The translation of The Lesson by Tina Howe had its World Pre-
miere on September 19, 2004 at Atlantic Theater Company: Neil
Pepe, Artistic Director; Andrew D. Hamingson, Managing Di-
rector; Melinda Berk, General Manager; Kurt Gardner, Produc-
tion Manager; Boneau/Bryan-Brown, Press Representative. Set
design was by Loy Arcenas; costume design by Theresa Squire;
lighting design by Josh Bradford; sound design by Obadiah Eaves;
dramaturge, Christian Parker; casting, Bernard Telsey Casting;
i fght director, Rick Sordelet; and production stage manager, Jen-
nifer Grutza. Directed by Carl Forsman. The cast was as follows:
THE MAID Christa Scott-Reed
THE PROFESSOR Steven Skybell
THE STUDENT Maggie Kiley

The old professor's office/dining room. Stage left, a door leads to a

staircase, another door leads to a hall upstage right. There's a small
window with plain curtains upstage left with the usual flowering
plants on the windowsill. One can see a little town with low
buildings and red roofs in the distance. The sky is blue gray.
There's a rustic table stage right and a table that doubles as a desk,
center stage. Three chairs are around it with two others on either
side of the window. The wallpaper is pale and there are a few
bookshelves. The curtain rises. Nothing happens for. several
moments, then the doorbell rings.
VOICE OP THE MAID (from the hall) Yes. I'm coming.
THE MAID is heard running down the stairs. She's a big woman
between forty-five and fifty. She has a ruddy complexion and wears a
peasant cap. She rushes in like a gust of wind, slamming the door to
the right. She dries her hands on her apron as she runs toward the
door on the left. The bell rings again.
 THE MAID Just a minute! I'm coming!
She opens the door. The young STUDENT enters, age eighteen.
Gray apron, small white collar, carrying a briefcase under her arm.
THE MAID Good morning, Mademoiselle.
THE STUDENT Good morning, Madame. Is the Professor
home?
THE MAID Are you here for your lesson?
THE STUDENT Yes, Madame.
THE MAID He's expecting you. Sit down a minute, I'll tell
him you're here.
THE STUDENT Thank you, Madame.
51

She sits near the table, facing the audience, her back to the door on the
right, through which the Maid rushes out
THE MAID (voice raised) Professor, come downstairs, please.
Your student is here.
VOICE OF THE PROFESSOR (thin and strained) Thank you.
I'm coming... Give me two minutes...
The Maid exits. The Student primly settles into a chair to wait,
adjusting her legs just so, briefcase on her knees. She glances around
the room, looking at the furniture and up at the ceiling. Then she
takes a notebook out of her briefcase, leafs through it and pauses at a
page to review a lesson in a last-ditch attempt to memorize it. She
seems well brought up and polite, full offun and life, with afresh
smile on her lips. In the course of the play she gradually loses her
buoyancy, becoming increasingly sad and morose. Carefree and smiling
at the outset, she becomes more and more exhausted, withdrawn and
somnolent. Toward the end of the play, her face should be suffused
with nervous depression which is reflected in her speech. Her tongue
becomes heavy and she has an increasingly hard time remembering
words. She speaks with difficulty and seems vaguely paralyzed, in the
beginning stages of aphasia. Self-confident and strong, almost
aggressive at the start, she becomes increasingly passive until she's
almost a mute inanimate object in the Professor's hands-so much so
that when he makes his final gesture, she doesn't react. Deadened, her
reflexes are gone. Only her eyes reveal unspeakable astonishment and
fear in her otherwise blank face. These changes in behavior should
occur imperceptibly.
THE PROFESSOR enters. He's a little old man with a pointed
white beard. He wears a pince-nez, a black skullcap, a long black
schoolmaster's gown, black trousers and black shoes, a detachable white
collar and black tie. He's excessively polite and very timid, his voice
deadened by this timidity. He's exceedingly correct, very much the
52

professor. He keeps rubbing his hands together. From time to time he

gets a lewd gleam in his eye which he quickly suppresses.
In the course of the play, his timidity gradually disappears and his
lewd glances become a steady devouring flame. Harmless at the outset,
the Professor becomes more and more sure of himself-nervous,
aggressive and dominating-until he controls the Student, who
becomes helpless in his hands. Naturally, his voice, which was thin
and reedy at the beginning, becomes stronger and stronger until it rings
out like a clarion call, whereas the Student's voice becomes virtually
inaudible after having been so clear and true at the start. In the
opening scenes the Professor might have a slight stutter.
THE PROFESSOR Good morning, Mademoiselle ... It's you,
it's really you, isn't it? My new student?
THE STUDENT (Turning quickly in a lively self-possessed way, a
young woman of the world, she rises to meet him with her hand
extended.) Yes, Professor. Good morning, Professor. As
you see, I'm on time. I didn't want to be late.
THE PROFESSOR That's good, Mademoiselle. Thank you.
But you didn't have to rush. I can't forgive myself for
making you wait. I was just finishing ... that is to say ...
I'm so sorry... . You will excuse me, won't you?
THE STUDENT For what, Professor? There's no harm done,
Professor.
THE PROFESSOR I'm so sorry. Did you have trouble finding
the place?
THE STUDENT Not at all, not at all. I asked the way.
Everyone knows you around here.
THE PROFESSOR I've lived in this town for thirty years.
You're new to it, aren't you? How do you like it?
53

THE STUDENT I like it fine. It's a pretty town, pleasant. It has

a nice park, a boarding school, a bishop, beautiful shops,
streets, avenues.
THE PROFESSOR That's true, Mademoiselle. And yet I
wouldn't mind living somewhere else. In Paris or at least
 Bordeaux.
THE STUDENT Do you like Bordeaux?
THE PROFESSOR I don't know. I've never been there.
THE STUDENT But you know Paris?
THE PROFESSOR I'm afraid not, Mademoiselle, but if you'll
permit me, can you tell me, Paris is the capital of...
Mademoiselle?
THE STUDENT (trying to remember, then relieved to get it) Paris is
the capital of ... France?
THE PROFESSOR Yes, Mademoiselle. Bravo! Well done.
Perfect. My congratulations. You have your French
geography at your fingertips. You know your capitals.
THE STUDENT Oh! I don't know them all yet, Professor, it's
not as easy as that. I have a tough time learning them.
THE PROFESSOR Oh, it will come... . Be brave...
Mademoiselle ... Excuse me ... You must be patient...
Little by little ... You'll see, it will come... . What a nice
day ... well actually, it's not that nice ... Oh, but it is! What
I'm trying to say is it's not nasty, that's the main thing. Uh
. Uh ... It's not raining and it's not snowing either.
THE STUDENT That would be amazing since it's
summertime.
54

THE PROPESSOR Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I was just going

to say ... but as you'll learn, one must be prepared for
anything.
THE STUDENT So it seems, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR There's nothing we can be sure of in this
world, Mademoiselle.
THE STUDENT Snow falls in winter. Winter is one of the
four seasons. The three others are ... uh ... spr ...
THE PROFESSOR Yes?
THE STUDENT Spring and then comes summer ... and. ..
uh...

THE PROFESSOR It sounds like "automobile," Mademoise lle.

THE STUDENT Ali yes, autumn ...
THE PROFESSOR Very good, Mademoiselle. Nicely done,
perfect, in fact. I'm convinced you're going to be a good
student. You'll make progress, You're intelligent, you seem
well-informed with a good memory.
 THE STUDENT Well, I certainly know my seasons, don't I,
Professor?
THE PROFESSOR Yes, indeed, Mademoiselle. Or almost. But
it will come. In any case, you're getting there. Soon you'll
know all the seasons with your eyes shut. Just like me.
THE STUDENT It's difficult.
THE PROFESSOR Not at all. It just takes a little effort and the
right attitude, Mademoiselle. You'll see. It will come, rest
assured.
55

THE STUDENT Oh, I hope so, Professor. I have such a thirst

for learning. My parents also want me to broaden my
knowledge. They want me to specialize. They think having
a grasp of general culture isn't enough these days, no matter
how solid it might be.
THE PROFESSOR Your parents are absolutely right,
Mademoiselle. You must pursue your studies. Excuse me
for saying so, but it's a necessity. Modern life has become
too complex.
THE STUDENT And too complicated. My parents are well-
off, so I'm lucky. They can help me get ahead and pursue
my advanced studies.
THE PROFESSOR And you wish to qualify for ...
THE STUDENT The first doctoral exams, as soon as possible.
They're in three weeks.
THE PROFESSOR You already have your baccalaureate, if you
don't mind me asking.
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor. I have a baccalaureate in
science and also one in letters.
THE PROFESSOR Oh, but you're very advanced, perhaps too
advanced for your age. And what sort of doctorate do you
want to pursue? One in the physical sciences or philosophy?
THE STUDENT My parents would like me to try for the Total
Doctorate, if you think it's possible in such a short time.
THE PROFESSOR The Total Doctorate? ... You have a lot of
courage, Mademoiselle. I heartily congratulate you. We will
try, Mademoiselle, we will try our very best. In any case,
you're already quite learned. And for one so young ...
THE STUDENT Oh, Professor.
56
 THE PROFESSOR Now if you'll permit me, if I may ... I
think we should get right to work. We have no time to
lose.
THE STUDENT On the contrary, Professor. That's just what I
want. I beg you to begin.
THE PROFESSOR Then may I ask you to sit down ... over
there. And will you allow me, Mademoiselle, that is if you
don't mind, to sit across from you?
THE STUDENT Certainly, Professor, please do.
THE PROFESSOR Thank you very much, Mademoiselle.
They sit in profile, facing each other at the table.
THE PROFESSOR Well, here we are. Do you have your
books and notebooks?
THE STUDENT (taking them out of her briefcase) Yes, Professor,
of course. I have everything here that I'll need.
THE PROFESSOR Perfect, Mademoiselle. This is perfect.
Then if this won't bore you ... shall we begin?
THE STUDENT But of course, Professor. I'm at your disposal,
Professor.
THE PROFESSOR You're at my disposal? (He gets a sudden
gleam in his eye and starts to make a gesture which he quickly
suppresses.) Oh no, Mademoiselle, I'm the one at your
disposal. I'm just your humble servant.
THE STUDENT Oh, Professor ...
THE PROFESSOR If you'd like ... uh ... we ... we ... that
is I . I could begin by giving you a brief test on your
knowledge up to this point, so we can chart your future
course. All right then. What are your views on multiplicity?
57

THE STUDENT They're a bit vague and confused.

THE PROFESSOR All right then. Let's give it a whirl.
He rubs his hands together. The Maid enters, which seems to irritate
him. She goes to the buffet and takes her time looking for something.
THE PROFESSOR So, Mademoiselle. How would you like to
tackle a little arithmetic, that is, if you're up to it...
THE STUDENT Oh yes, Professor, certainly. It's my heart's
desire.
THE PROFESSOR It's a rather new science, a modern science,
to be exact, more a method than a science. . . . It's also
 therapeutic. (to the Maid) Have you finished, Marie?
THE MAID Yes, Professor. I found the plate. I'm leaving...

THE PROFESSOR Then hurry up. Go to your kitchen, please.

THE MAID Yes, Professor. I'm going. (starting to leave) Excuse
me, Professor, now pay attention, I beg you to stay calm.

THE PROFESSOR You're being ridiculous, Marie. Don't

worry.
THE MAID That's what you always say.
THE PROFESSOR I won't stand for your insinuations. I know
perfectly well how to behave. I think I'm old enough.
THE MAID Exactly, Professor. You'd do better not to start
the young lady on arithmetic. Arithmetic tires you out, it's
exhausting.
THE PROFESSOR Not at my age. And why are you butting
in? This is my affair. I know what I'm doing. It's none of
your business.
58

THE MAID All right, Professor. But don't say I didn't warn
you.
THE PROFESSOR I don't need your two cents' worth, Marie.
THE MAID As you wish, Professor.
She exits.
THE PROFESSOR Excuse me for that silly interruption,
Mademoiselle. Excuse that woman... . She's always fretting
that I'm going to tire myself out. She worries about my
health.
THE STUDENT All is forgiven, Professor. It just shows she's
devoted to you. She loves you very much. Good servants
are rare.
THE PROFESSOR She overreacts. Her fears are stupid. But
let's return to our mathematical meanderings.
THE STUDENT I'm following you, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR (trying to be funny) While remaining seated!
THE STUDENT (appreciating his joke) Just like you, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Good. Let's arithmetize a little now.
THE STUDENT Yes, I can't wait, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Would it bore you to tell me ...
THE STUDENT Anything, Professor, go on.
THE PROFESSOR How much are one and one?
THE STUDENT One and one make two.
THE PROFESSOR (amazed at her intelligence) Oh, that's very
good. You seem very advanced in your studies. You'll have
no trouble getting your Total Doctorate, Mademoiselle.
59

THE STUDENT I'm so glad. Particularly hearing it from you.

THE PROFESSOR Moving right along: how much are two
and one?
THE STUDENT Three.
THE PROFESSOR Three and one?
THE STUDENT Four.
THE PROFESSOR Four and one?
THE STUDENT Five.
THE PROFESSOR Five and one?
THE STUDENT Six.
THE PROFESSOR Six and one?
THE STUDENT Seven.
THE PROFESSOR Seven and one?
THE STUDENT Eight.
THE PROFESSOR Seven and one?
THE STUDENT Eight ... Again.
THE PROFESSOR Excellent answer! Seven and one?
THE STUDENT Eight. Once more.
THE PROFESSOR Perfect. Excellent. Seven and one?
THE STUDENT Eight, one more time. And sometimes nine.
THE PROFESSOR Magnificent. You are magnificent You are
exquisite. I heartily congratulate you, Mademoiselle.
There's no need to continue. You're a master at addition.
60

Let's try some subtraction. If you're not too exhausted, just

tell me how much is four minus three?
THE STUDENT Four minus three? ... Four minus three?
THE PROFESSOR Yes. Or put another way: subtract three
from four.
THE STUDENT That makes ... seven?
THE PROFESSOR I'm afraid I have to contradict you, but four
minus three is not seven. You're confused: four plus three
makes seven, but four minus three doesn't make seven.
We're not doing addition anymore, now we're subtracting.
THE STUDENT (trying to understand) Right ... right .. .
 THE PROFESSOR Four minus three leaves ... how many?
How many?
THE STUDENT Four?
THE PROFESSOR No, Mademoiselle, that's not it.
THE STUDENT Three, then.
THE PROFESSOR Nor that either, Mademoiselle ... Pardon
me ... I ought to say ... it doesn't equal that... . Forgive
me.
THE STUDENT Four minus three ... Four minus three ...
Four minus three? ... Doesn't that make ten?
THE PROFESSOR Most certainly not, Mademoiselle. But you
shouldn't guess, you should think it through. Let's try to
i fgure it out together. Would you count for me?
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor. One. . . two ... uh ...
6i

THE PROFESSOR You know how to count, don't you? How

far can you count?
THE STUDENT I can count to ... infinity.
THE PROFESSOR But that's impossible, Mademoiselle.
THE STUDENT Then how about to sixteen?
THE PROFESSOR That's better. We must know our limits.
Please start counting if you will.
THE STUDENT One ... two ... and after two comes three
four ...
THE PROFESSOR Stop right there, Mademoiselle. Which
number is bigger? Three or four?
THE STUDENT Uh ... three or four? Which is bigger? The
bigger between three or four? In what sense to you mean
bigger?
THE PROFESSOR There are small numbers and big numbers.
In big numbers there are more units than in small...
THE STUDENT Than in small numbers?

THE PROFESSOR Unless the small ones have smaller units. If

they are very small, there might be more units in the smaller
numbers than in the big ones ... that is if it's a matter of
other units...
THE STUDENT In that case, small numbers could be bigger
than big numbers?
THE PROFESSOR Let's not go there. It will take us too far
afield. Bear in mind that more than numbers are involved
 here. There are also magnitudes, sums, groups, there are
masses of things, masses-like plums, cars, geese, seeds,
62

etcetera. To make our work easier, let's just suppose we

only have equal numbers, then the bigger ones will be those
that have the most units.
THE STUDENT The number with the most is the biggest? Ah,
I understand, Professor, you're equating quality with
quantity.
THE PROFESSOR That's too theoretical, Mademoiselle, much
too theoretical. Don't worry about that. Let's take an
example and figure it out with a specific case. We'll leave
sweeping conclusions for later. All right, we have the
number four and the number three, each always has the
same number of units; which number will be bigger, the
smaller one or the bigger one?
THE STUDENT Excuse me, Professor... . What do you mean
by the bigger number? Is that the one that isn't as small as
the other?
THE PROFESSOR That's right, Mademoiselle. Perfect. You've
understood me perfectly.
THE STUDENT Then it's four.
THE PROFESSOR What is this four? Is it bigger or smaller
than three?
THE STUDENT Smaller. . . no, bigger.
THE PROFESSOR Excellent answer! How many units are
there between three and four? Or between four and three, if
you prefer?
THE STUDENT There are no units between three and four,
Professor. Four comes right after three; so there's nothing
between three and four!
63

THE PROFESSOR I haven't made myself understood. It's

obviously my fault. I wasn't clear enough,
THE STUDENT No, Professor, it's my fault.
THE PROFESSOR Hold on... . Here are three matches. And
here's another, that makes four. Now watch carefully...
We have four and I take away one, how many are left?
The audience can't see these matches or any of the other objects he
mentions. The Professor rises from the table and writes on an
imaginary blackboard with an imaginary piece of chalk, etc.
THE STUDENT Five. If three and one make four, then four
and one make five.
THE PROFESSOR That's not it. That's not it at all. You have
a tendency to keep adding. But one must also subtract. You
can't just integrate, you also have to disintegrate. That's
how life is. With philosophy. With science. It's what we
call progress, civilization.
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Let's return to our matches. I have four of
them. You see there are exactly four. I take one away and
how many are left...
THE STUDENT I don't know, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Come on, think. It's not easy, I admit, but
you're smart enough to handle the intellectual challenge
required to understand. So then ...
THE STUDENT I don't get it, Professor. I just don't know,
Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Then let's try a simpler example. Ifyou had
two noses and I pulled one of them off, how many would
you have left?
64

THE STUDENT None.

THE PROFESSOR How do you get none?
THE STUDENT Because you haven't pulled any off, I still
have one. If you'd pulled it off, it would be gone.
THE PROFESSOR You haven't understood my example.
Suppose you have only one ear.
THE STUDENT Yes, and then?
THE PROFESSOR I add another. How many would you have
then?
THE STUDENT Two.
THE PROFESSOR Good. And I add one more. Then how
many would you have?
THE STUDENT Three ears.
THE PROFESSOR I take one away ... how many ears remain?
THE STUDENT Two.
THE PROFESSOR Good. I take away another one. How many
are left?
 THE STUDENT Two.
THE PROFESSOR No. You have two, I take one, I eat it,
how many are left?
THE STUDENT Two.
THE PROFESSOR I eat one of them. One.
THE STUDENT Two.
THE PROFESSOR One.
65

THE STUDENT Two.

THE PROFESSOR One!
THE STUDENT Two!
THE PROFESSOR One!!
THE STUDENT Two!!
THE PROFESSOR One!!!
THE STUDENT Two!!!
THE PROFESSOR One!!!!
THE STUDENT Two!!!!
THE PROFESSOR No, no, that's not right. The example isn't
. it's a poor example... . Now pay attention.
THE STUDENT Yes, professor.
THE PROFESSOR You have ... you have ... you have ...
THE STUDENT Ten fingers!
THE PROFESSOR If you like. Perfect. Good. You have ten
i fngers.
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR How many would you have if you had
i f ve?
THE STUDENT Ten, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR That's not right!
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR I said no!
THE STUDENT You just told me I had ten...
66

THE PROFESSOR But then I said you had five right after that!
THE STUDENT But I don't have five, I have ten!
THE PROFESSOR Let's try something else... . For the
purpose of subtraction, let's limit ourselves to numbers
between one and five. Just wait, Mademoiselle, you'll see.
I'll help you understand.
He begins to write on the imaginary blackboard. He moves it closer to
her and she turns to look at it.
THE PROFESSOR Now watch, Mademoiselle.
He pretends to draw a stick on the blackboard and writes the number
"1" underneath it. Then he draws two sticks with the number "a"
underneath that, then three sticks with the number "3" underneath
that and finally four sticks with the number "4" beneath that.
THE PROFESSOR You see.
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR These are sticks, Mademoiselle, sticks. This
is one stick, there are two sticks, three sticks, four sticks and
then five sticks. One stick, two sticks, three sticks, four and
i f ve sticks, these are the numbers. When we count sticks,
each stick is a unit, Mademoiselle. What did I just say?
THE STUDENT "A unit, Mademoiselle. What did I just say?"
THE PROFESSOR Or a figure, or a number. One, two, three,
four, five, these are the elements of numeration,
Mademoiselle.
THE STUDENT (unsure) Yes, Professor. The elements, the
i fgures which are sticks, the units and numbers ...
THE PROFESSOR At the same time ... That is to say, in sum,
arithmetic herself steps forth in all her glory.
67

THE STUDENT Yes, Professor. Very good, Professor. Thank

you, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR All right now, count if you will while using
these elements... . Add and subtract ...
THE STUDENT (struggling to burn them into her memory) Sticks
are really figures and numbers are units?
THE PROFESSOR Hmmmm. In a manner of speaking. And
then?
THE STUDENT One can subtract two units from three units,
but can one subtract two twos from three threes? And two
i fgures from four numbers? And three numbers from one
unit?
THE PROFESSOR No, Mademoiselle.
THE STUDENT Why not, Professor?
THE PROFESSOR Because, Mademoiselle.
THE STUDENT Because why, Professor? Because one is the
same as the other?
 THE PROFESSOR That's just the way it is, Mademoiselle. It
can't be explained. It comes through internal mathematical
reasoning. You either have it or you don't.
THE STUDENT Just my luck!
THE PROFESSOR Listen, Mademoiselle, if you're unable to
understand these principles, these mathematical archetypes,
you'll never be able to do the proper work of an engineer
and will be even more at sea trying to teach at a
polytechnical school, to say nothing of an advanced nursery
school..I realize this isn't easy, it's very, very abstract ...
obviously... . But how do you expect to be able to solve
68

problems in your head, unless you understand the basic

elements, which is the least an ordinary engineer can do -
how much for example is three billion, seven hundred fifty-
i f ve million, nine hundred ninety-eight thousand, two
hundred and fifty-one, multiplied by five billion, one
hundred sixty-two million, three hundred and three
thousand, five hundred and eight?
THE STUDENT (with the speed of light) Nineteen quintillion,
three hundred ninety quadrillion, two trillion, eight
hundred and forty-four billion, two hundred and nineteen
million, one hundred and sixty-four thousand, five hundred
and eight ...
THE PROFESSOR (astonished) No. I don't think so. It should
come to nineteen quintillion, three hundred ninety
quadrillion, two trillion, eight hundred and forty-four
billion, two hundred and nineteen million, one hundred
sixty-four thousand, five hundred and nine ...
THE STUDENT No ... five hundred and eight ...
THE PROFESSOR (increasingly astonished, calculating mentally)
Yes ... You're right ... the total is indeed ... (muttering
incoherently) . quintillions, quadrillions, trillions, billions,
millions ... (clear as a bell) one hundred sixty-four thousand
five hundred and eight ... (stupefied) But how did you
figure it out if you can't grasp the principles of arithmetical
reasoning?
THE STUDENT Easy. Since I don't trust my ability to think
things through, I just memorized all the possible sums of all
the possible numbers that could be multiplied.
 THE PROFESSOR Very impressive. But I have to confess I'm
not satisfied. I can't congratulate you, Mademoiselle: in
mathematics, particularly in arithmetic, what counts most
69

(because arithmetic depends on counting) is understanding.

You can count on it. It's through mathematical reasoning,
simultaneously inductive and deductive, that you'll find the
answer, as well as any other answer. Mathematics is the
sworn enemy of memory, which is excellent in and of itself,
but dangerous arithmetically speaking! So I'm not pleased.
. This won't do ... no, it won't do at all...
THE STUDENT (crushed) No, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Let's drop it for now and move on to
something else.
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE MAID (entering) Um, um ... Professor ...
THE PROFESSOR (not hearing her) It's a pity, Mademoiselle,
that you're so far behind in advanced mathematics.
THE MAID (pulling his sleeve) Professor! Professor!
THE PROFESSOR I'm afraid you won't qualify for a Total
Doctorate...
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor, what a shame!
THE PROFESSOR Unless of course ... (to The Maid) Leave
me alone, Marie. See here, why are you butting in? Go
back to your kitchen! Back to your pots and pans! Go!
Vamoose! (to The Student) We'll try to prepare you for a
partial doctorate, at least...
THE MAID Professor! Professor! (pulling on his sleeve again)
THE PROFESSOR (to The Maid) Take your hands off me!
I said, hands off! What is the meaning of this?
(to The Student) Look, if you want to pursue a partial
doctorate, I'll try and teach you ...
70

THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.

THE PROFESSOR . the elements of linguistics and
comparative philology.
THE MAID No, Professor, no! You mustn't!
THE PROFESSOR Marie, you're overreacting!
THE MAID Anything but philology, Professor, philology leads
 to disaster...
THE STUDENT (astonished) To disaster? (smiling stupidly)
That's a good one!
THE PROFESSOR (to The Maid) You're going overboard. Get
out!
THE MAID All right, Professor, all right. But you can't say I
didn't warn you. Philology leads to disaster.
THE PROFESSOR I'm a grown man, Marie!
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE MAID As you wish. (She exits.)
THE PROFESSOR Let's press on, Mademoiselle.
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Now please give your undivided attention
to this lecture I've prepared...
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Thanks to which, in fifteen short minutes
you'll be able to aquire the fundamental principles of
linguistic and comparative philology of neo-Spanish
languages.
71

THE STUDENT Oh yes, Professor, yes! (clapping her hands)

THE PROFESSOR (sternly) Silence! What's the meaning of
this?
THE STUDENT Forgive me, Professor. (She slowly puts her
hands back on the table.)
THE PROFESSOR Silence!
He rises and paces around the room with his hands behind his back,
stopping from time to time center stage or near the Student,
punctuating his words with gestures; he holds forth without overdoing
it. The Student struggles to keep her eyes on him, but has a hard time
following him since she has to keep turning her head. One or two
times she has to make a complete turn.

THE PROFESSOR All right then, Mademoiselle ... Spanish is

the mother tongue from which all neo-Spanish languages
derive: to wit, Spanish, Latin, Italian, our own French,
Portuguese, Rumanian, Sardinian, or Sardiniapalian, Spanish
and neo-Spanish. It also enjoys close ties to Turkish, for
obvious reasons. Turkish is akin to Greek, which is only
logical since Turkey is a neighbor of Greece which is even
closer to Turkey than I am to you. This further illustrates an
 important law of linguistics, namely that geography and
philology are twin sisters. Feel free to take notes,
Mademoiselle.
THE STUDENT (in a lifeless voice) Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR What distinguishes the neo-Spanish tongues
and idioms from each other and from the other linguistic
groups, to wit: the Austrian and neo-Austrian or
Hapsburgian, as well as the group that includes Esperanto,
Helvetia, Monegasque, Swiss, Andorran, Basque and jai alai,
to say nothing of the diplomatic and technical language
72

groups-what distinguishes them, I repeat, is their striking

similarity, which makes it so hard to tell them apart. I'm
speaking of course of the neo-Spanish languages which can
only be discerned by their distinct characteristics, thereby
offering indisputable proof of their remarkable resemblance,
rendering their common origin indisputable, which makes
them profoundly different because of the ongoing
similarities I just mentioned.
THE STUDENT Ohhhh! Yesssss, Professor!
THE PROFESSOR But let's not dwell on generalities...
THE STUDENT (disappointed but resigned) Oh, Professor ...
THE PROFESSOR This seems to intrigue you. That's a good
sign, a very good sign.
THE STUDENT Oh, yes, Professor ...
THE PROFESSOR Don't worry, Mademoiselle. We'll come
back to it later ... to the extent one can ever go back.
Who's to say?
THE STUDENT (enchanted, in spite of everything) Oh, yes,
Professor
THE PROFESSOR Every tongue, Mademoiselle ... Now pay
attention, you must remember this till the very hour of your
death.
THE STUDENT Oh! yes, Professor, till the very hour of my death
. Yes, Professor ...
THE PROFESSOR . and again this is another basic principle
-every tongue, in essence, is nothing but language,
implying of course that it's made up of sounds, or ...
THE STUDENT Phonemes ...
73
THE PROFESSOR You snatched the words right out of my
mouth. Don't flaunt your knowledge. You should listen
instead.
THE STUDENT Very good, Professor. Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Sounds, Mademoiselle, must be plucked
by their wings as they become airborne, so they don't fall
on deaf ears. It follows that when you're ready to
enunciate you should make every effort to lift your chin
and neck as high as possible and rise up on your tiptoes,
this way you'll-
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Button your lip! Stay seated and don't
interrupt. . And project the sounds loud and clear, using
all your lung power in tandem with your vocal cords. Like
this: watch me: "Butterfly," "Eureka," "Trafalgar,"
"Papaya," "Popageno." This way the sounds swell with
warm air, enabling them to float aloft and rise without risk
of falling on deaf dears, which are veritable voids, tombs of
tremulous tones. If you utter several sounds rapidly, they
will automatically cling to each other, forming syllables,
words, even sentences, that is to say, swarms of seething
significance, innately irrational assemblages of sound
drained of all sense, and for that very reason, capable of
rising to dizzy altitudes without risk. Left to their own
devices, these high-flying words will collapse, weighted
down by their significance. They always deflate at the end,
tumbling down ...
THE STUDENT . onto deaf ears.
THE PROFESSOR That's right, but don't interrupt...
disintegrating into gibberish. Or else they burst like
balloons. Therefore, Mademoiselle ...
74

The Student suddenly seems to be in pain.

THE PROFESSOR What's wrong?
THE STUDENT I have a toothache, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR So what? We're not going to stop for such
a piddling detail. On we go ...
THE STUDENT (whose pain is escalating) Yes, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR Let me direct your attention to the
 consonants whose nature changes in combinations. F's
become v's, d's become t's, and g's become k's and vice
versa as in the examples I'm about to give you: "three
o'clock, the children, chicken cutlets, modem times, night
must fall."
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR On we go.
THE STUDENT Yes.
THE PROFESSOR As I was saying ... It takes years and years
to learn how to pronounce correctly. Thanks to science,
we can do it in a matter of minutes. To project words,
sounds or whatever else you fancy, you must brazenly
expel the air from your lungs and then let it float over the
vocal cords with the utmost delicacy, caressing them ever
so slightly-like harps or leaves swirling in the wind-
until they start to tremble, shudder and vibrate, vibrate,
vibrate or uvulate or pulsate, rubbing against each other-
gyrating, gyrating, everything moving: the uvula, tongue,
palate, teeth ...
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
75

THE PROFESSOR . lips. . Finally the words flow out the

nose, the mouth, the ears, the pores, carrying all the body
parts we've mentioned along with them, torn up by the
roots in a symphonic spasm which we incorrectly label the
voice-whether subdued in song or transformed to an
atonal typhoon with all the trappings-wreaths of fabulous
l fowers and sonorous sibilants-labials, dentals, occlusives,
palatals and others-some caressing and others toxic or
terrifying.
THE STUDENT Yes, Professor, I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR Onward, onward. Neo-Spanish languages
are so intimately related to each other that they can be
mistaken for actual second cousins. They share the same
mother-Spanish with a silent e. That's why it's so hard to
tell them apart. And why it's so important to articulate well
to avoid errors of pronunciation. Pronunciation is a
language unto itself. Bad pronunciation can get you in hot
water. Since we're on the subject, let me share
(parenthetically, of course) a personal memory with you.
A pause. The Professor briefly gets lost in his past. His features
soften, but he quickly pulls himself together.
THE PROFESSOR I was very young, almost a child.
I was doing my military service. I had a friend in my
regiment, a viscount, who had a serious speech defect:
he couldn't pronounce the letter f. Instead of f, he said f.
Thus, instead of saying, "Familiarity breeds contempt,"
he said, "Familiarity breeds contempt." He said
"feminine" instead of "feminine"; "Frescobaldi" instead
of "Frescobaldi"; "french fry" instead of "french fry";
"fuck off" instead of "fuck off"; "fandango" instead of
76

"fandango"; "fee-fi-fo-fum" instead of "fee-fi-fo-fum";

"Philippe" instead of "Philippe"; "fictory" instead of
"fictory"; "February" instead of "February"; "March-
April" instead of "March-April"; "Frere Jacques", mis-
pronounced "Frere Jacques"; "Mont Blanc" instead of
"Mont Blanc," etcetera; "etcetera" instead of "etcetera,"
and "thus and so on" instead of "etcetera"; etcetera and so
on. Thanks to his hats, however, he was able to hide this
defect, so no one ever noticed it.
THE STUDENT Yes. I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR (suddenly turning harsh) Onward and
upward! Let's start with the similarities between these
languages, so we can better understand their differences later
on. These differences are barely perceptible to those who
aren't aware of them. Thus, all the words of all these
languages ...
THE STUDENT Ali yes ... ? I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR On we go ... are always the same, just as
all the endings, prefixes, suffixes and roots ...
THE STUDENT Are the roots of words square?
THE PROFESSOR Square or cubed. It depends.
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR On we go. Thus, to give you an example,
which is merely an illustration, take the word "front." .. .
THE STUDENT Where should I take it?
THE PROFESSOR Wherever you want as long as you take it,
but don't interrupt.
77
 THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR On we go ... I said, Onward and upward!
Now take the French word "front." Have you taken it?
THE STUDENT Yes, yes, I've got it. My teeth, my teeth ...
THE PROFESSOR The word "front" is the root of
"frontispiece" and also of "affronted." "Ispice" is the suffix
and "af" the prefix. They're labeled like this because they
don't change. They don't want to.
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR On we go. Quickly now. These prefixes
are Spanish in origin. I trust you noticed. You did, didn't
you?
THE STUDENT Oh! How my tooth aches!
THE PROFESSOR Onward and upward. You should also have
noticed that they haven't changed in French. So,
Mademoiselle, nothing can change them, not Latin, not
Italian, not Portuguese, not Sardanapalian, or Sardanapali,
not Rumanian, not Neo-Spanish, not Spanish nor even the
Asian influence: "front," "frontispiece," "affronted" are
always the same word with the same root. They share the
same suffix and prefix in every language I've mentioned.
And it's ever thus with every word.
THE STUDENT These words say the same thing in every
language? I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR Absolutely. How could it be otherwise?
They always have the same meaning, the same makeup and
the same sonorous structure. I'm not only talking about this
particular word, but every conceivable word in every
78

language, because ideas are expressed by one and the same

word in all countries and that goes for their synonyms too.
Forget about your teeth.
THE STUDENT My teeth hurt. Yes, yes and yes.
THE PROFESSOR Good, on we go. I said, on we go. For
example, how would you say in French: My grandmother's
roses are as yellow as my Asian grandfather.
THE STUDENT My teeth ache, ache, ache.
THE PROFESSOR Keep going, keep going, answer me just the
same!
 THE STUDENT In French?
THE PROFESSOR In French.
THE STUDENT Uh ... I should say in French: My
grandmother's roses are ... ?
THE PROFESSOR As yellow as my Asian grandfather ...
THE STUDENT All right. I think the French goes: The roses
of my ... How do you say grandmother in French?
THE PROFESSOR In French? Grandmother.
THE STUDENT My grandmother's roses are as ... yellow ...
In French you say, yellow, right?
THE PROFESSOR Yes, of course.
THE STUDENT Are as yellow as my grandfather when he's
angry.
THE PROFESSOR No. Your grandfather who's A ...
THE STUDENT Sian ... I have a toothache.
79

THE PROFESSOR That's it.

THE STUDENT I have a tooth ...
THE PROFESSOR Ache ... too bad ... Onward and upward!
Now translate the same sentence in Spanish and then neo-
Spanish.
THE STUDENT In Spanish that would be: My grandmother's
roses are as yellow as my Asian grandfather.
THE PROFESSOR No, that's wrong.
THE STUDENT And in neo-Spanish: My grandmother's roses
are as yellow as my Asian grandfather.
THE PROFESSOR Wrong, wrong, wrong! You've inverted
the two. You've taken Spanish for neo-Spanish and neo-
Spanish for Spanish... . Oh ... no ... it's the other way
around...
THE STUDENT I have a toothache. You're getting mixed up.
THE PROFESSOR And you're the one who's mixing me up.
Pay attention and take notes. I'll say it in Spanish, then neo-
Spanish and finally in Latin. You will repeat after me. Take
care because the resemblances are huge. In fact they're
identical. Now listen and follow carefully...
THE STUDENT I have a tooth ...
THE PROFESSOR Ache.
THE STUDENT Onward and upward ... Ah!
THE PROFESSOR In Spanish: My grandmother's roses are as
 yellow as my Asian grandfather; in Latin: My grandmother's
roses are as yellow as my Asian grandfather. Can you detect
the differences? Now translate it into ... Rumanian.
8o

THE STUDENT How do you say roses in Rumanian?

THE PROFESSOR Roses. What else?
THE STUDENT But it's not roses. Oh, I have such a
toothache...
THE PROFESSOR No, no, certainly not, since roses is the
Asian translation of the word roses in English, Spanish and
Sardanapalian. Do you understand?
THE STUDENT Excuse me, Professor, but ... Oh what a
toothache ... I don't see the difference.
THE PROFESSOR But it's so simple! So very simple! It's just a
matter of experience, having technical experience and
practice with these diverse languages, which remain diverse
in spite of their sharing so many identical characteristics. I'm
going to try and give you the key...
THE STUDENT Toothache.
THE PROFESSOR What differentiates these languages is
neither the words, which are always the same, nor the
sentence structure, which is also the same, nor the
intonation, which offers no differences, nor the rhythms.
. What differentiates them ... Are you listening?
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.

THE PROFESSOR Are you listening to me, Mademoise lle?

Aah! We're going to lose our temper.

THE STUDENT You're driving me crazy, Professor. I have a

toothache.
THE PROFESSOR I don't give a flying fuck! Listen to me!

THE STUDENT All right ... yes ... yes ... go on...
81

THE PROFESSOR What distinguishes them from each other

and from their mother Spanish with its silent e is ...
THE STUDENT (wincing) Is what?
THE PROFESSOR Ineffable. Something ineffable you can only
detect after Herculean effort and grueling experience.
THE STUDENT Ah?
THE PROFESSOR Yes, Mademoiselle. No one can hand you
 these rules. It takes intuition, that's all there is to it. And to
get it you have to study, study and then study some more.
THE STUDENT Toothache.

THE PROFESSOR All the same, there are a few specific cases
in which words differ from one language to another ... but
we can't rely on them because, in a manner of speaking,
they're exceptional.
THE STUDENT Ah, yes? Oh Professor, I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR Don't interrupt! Don't make me lose my

temper! I can't answer for what I might do. As I was saying

. Ah yes, these exceptional cases, that is to say the ones
that are clearly distinguishable, or distinguishable enough
. that is to say, readily distinguishable if you prefer . . .I
repeat: If you prefer, because I can't help noticing that
you're not listening to me...
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR As I was saying: in certain expressions that
are currently in use, certain words totally differ from one
language to another, so much so that the language being
spoken is much easier to identify. I'll give you an example:
the neo-Spanish expression favored in Madrid: "My country
is neo-Spain" in Italian becomes, "My country is ..."
82

THE STUDENT Neo-Spain!

THE PROFESSOR No! "My country is Italy." Now tell me,
via simple deduction, how do you say Italy in French?
THE STUDENT I have a toothache!
THE PROFESSOR But it's so simple: for the word Italy, we
have the French word France, which is an exact translation.
My country is France. And France in Asian becomes Asia!
My country is Asia. And Asia in Portuguese becomes
Portugal! The Asian expression My country is Asia is
translated the very same way into Portuguese: My country is
Portugal! And so on.
THE STUDENT Enough! Enough! My teeth ...
THE PROFESSOR Ache! Your teeth, your teeth, your teeth!
. Keep it up and I'm going to pull them out myself! Now
here's another example. The word capital takes on different
meanings depending on the language you're speaking. If a
Spaniard says, I live in the capital, the word capital doesn't
 refer to the same place that a Portuguese has in mind when
he says, I live in the capital. This is even truer for a
Frenchman, a neo-Spaniard, a Rumanian, a Latin and a
Sardanapalian... . Whenever you hear it, Mademoiselle ...
Mademoiselle, I'm talking to you, for Christ's sake!
Whenever you hear the expression I live in the capital,
you'll immediately know whether it's Spanish or Spanish,
or neo-Spanish, or French, or Asian, or Rumanian, or Latin
according to how the phrase is pronounced. You'll be able
to tell which city's being referred to the moment it's
uttered. But alas, these are the only concrete examples I can
give you...
THE STUDENT Oh, oh, oh ... my teeth!
83

THE PROFESSOR Silence! Or I'll bash your head in!

THE STUDENT Go ahead and try! Pompous asshole!
The Professor grabs her wrist and twists it hard.
THE STUDENT OW!
THE PROFESSOR Easy does it! Shut your trap!
THE STUDENT (whimpering) Tooth ache ...
THE PROFESSOR The dilemma here ... how should I put it?
. The most paradoxical ... yes ... that's the word ...
the most paradoxical aspect of the dilemma is that people
who are completely uneducated can speak these different
languages... . Did you hear that? What did I just say?
THE STUDENT . can speak these different languages! What
did I just say?
THE PROFESSOR You were lucky this time! Many people
speak Spanish chock full of neo-Spanish words they're not
even aware of, thinking they're speaking Latin... . Or they
speak Latin, chock full of Asian words, thinking they're
speaking Rumanian... . Or Spanish, chock full of neo-
Spanish, thinking they're speaking Sardanapali, or Spanish
. Do you understand?
THE STUDENT Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! What do you want from
me?
THE PROFESSOR Mind your manners, honey bunch, or
you'll be sorry. (in a rage) To crown it all off, Mademoiselle,
certain people say, "My two livers bother me since I'm a high
liver" in Latin, thinking they're speaking Spanish to a
 Frenchman who doesn't understand a word of Spanish; yet
he understands it as if it were his own language. In fact, he
thinks it is his own language. And this Frenchman will reply
84

in French, "Me too, Monsieur, my two livers bother me,"

which will be perfectly understood by a Spaniard, who'll
think he's speaking pure Spanish, that they're both speaking
Spanish, when in fact it's neither Spanish, nor French, but
Latin in the neo-Spanish manner... . Sit still, Mademoiselle
. stop wiggling your legs and don't tap your feet...
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR How does the man in the street
communicate with anyone when he doesn't know what
language he's speaking while operating under the false
assumption it's the right one?
THE STUDENT That's what I'd like to know.
THE PROFESSOR It's just one of those unaccountable
mysteries embedded in his genes-not to be confused with
experience-it's a paradox, an anomaly, a quirk of human
nature, in a word, it's instinct pure and simple-and that's
all there is to it.
THE STUDENT Ha! Ha!
THE PROFESSOR Instead of gazing at the flies on the wall
while I'm out here busting my ass, you'd do better to try
and pay attention... . I'm not the one going up for my
partial doctorate ... I got it a long time ago ... I
completed my Total Doctorate ... as well as my Super-
Total Doctorate... . Don't you realize I'm just looking
after your own good?
THE STUDENT Tooth ache!
THE PROFESSOR Spoiled brat ... I can't take it anymore,
can't take it anymore, can't take it anymore, can't take it

anymore. . .
8S

THE STUDENT I'm ... listening... . I'm . . listening..

THE PROFESSOR Ah! To reiterate: if you want to tell these
different languages apart, nothing succeeds like practice.
Let's tackle them in order. I'll begin with all the translations
of the word dagger.
 THE STUDENT Whatever you say. After all ...
THE PROFESSOR (calling her) Marie! Marie! She isn't coming.
. Marie! Marie ... See here, Marie. (Opening the door to
the right) Marie! ...
He exits. The Student is alone several moments. She stares into
space, blankly.
THE PROFESSOR (offstage, in a shrill voice) Marie! What's
going on? Why aren't you coming? When I ask you to
come, you come!
He enters, followed by Marie.
THE PROFESSOR I give the orders, do you hear me? (pointing
to the Student) She doesn't understand a thing, that girl! She
just doesn't get it.
THE MAID Don't rile yourself up, Professor. You know what
happens. You're going to go too far, way too far.
THE PROFESSOR I know how to stop myself in time.
THE MAID That's what you always say. I'd like to see it.
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
THE MAID You see, it's starting, that's the symptom!
THE PROFESSOR What symptom? What do you mean? What

are you trying to say?

86

THE STUDENT (weakly) Yes, what are you trying to say? I

have a toothache.
THE MAID The final symptom! The penultimate symptom!
THE PROFESSOR Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!
The Maid starts to exit.
THE PROFESSOR Don't walk out on me! I called you to help
me look for my daggers from Spain, neo-Spain, Portugal,
France, Asia, Rumania, Sardanapali, the Latin countries and
Spain.
THE MAID (severely) Don't count on me. (She exits.)
The Professor starts to protest, but restrains himself, at a loss. Then he
suddenly remembers.
THE PROFESSOR Ah!
He hurries to the desk drawer, where he finds a large invisible dagger,
which could also be real, depending on the director's taste. He grabs it
and waves it gleefully.
THE PROFESSOR Here's one, Mademoiselle. Here's a dagger.
It's a pity we only have this one, but we'll try to make it do
 for all the languages! All you have to do is pronounce the
word dagger in every language, look at it long and hard and
then picture it in the language you're speaking.
THE STUDENT I have a toothache.
THE PROFESSOR (singing, almost chanting) Now say dag, like
dag, ger ... Look at it, look at it, look at it long and hard . .
THE STUDENT And which one is it? French? Italian or
Spanish?
87

THE PROFESSOR It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't affect

you. Say: dag.
THE STUDENT Dag.
THE PROFESSOR ger. Look at it. (waving it under her
eyes)
THE STUDENT Ger ...
THE PROFESSOR Again ... Look at it.
THE STUDENT No! Goddammit! I've had enough! And
besides, my teeth hurt, my feet hurt, and my head hurts . .
THE PROFESSOR (in a staccato voice) Dagger ... look at it ...
dagger ... look at it ... dagger ... look at it.
THE STUDENT You're giving me an earache too. Oh, that
voice! It's so shrill!
THE PROFESSOR Say: dagger ... dag... ger. ..
THE STUDENT No! I have an earache. I ache everywhere ...
THE PROFESSOR I'm going to rip them off, that's what I'm
going to do! ... Damn ears! Then they won't hurt
anymore, my sweet!
THE STUDENT Ali ... but you're the one who's hurting
me...
THE PROFESSOR Look at it. Come on, hurry up, repeat after
me: dag ...
THE STUDENT All right, if you insist ... dag ... dagger ...
(in a moment of ironic lucidity) Is that neo-Spanish ...
88

THE PROFESSOR If you like, yes, it's neo-Spanish, but hurry

up ... we don't have much time... . And what did you
mean by that stupid question? What are you up to?
THE STUDENT (becoming increasingly exhausted, weeping and
desperate, but at the same time riled up, in a sort of ecstasy) Ah!
 THE PROFESSOR Repeat after me, look at it. (imitating a
cuckoo) Dagger ... dagger ... dagger ... dagger ...
THE STUDENT Ohhh ... I have such an ache. . . my head
(naming the parts of her body as she gently caresses them with
her hand) ... my eyes ...
THE PROFESSOR (still like a cuckoo) Dagger ... dagger ...
They're both standing. The Professor keeps wav ng his invisible
dagger, almost beside himsef, as he circles her in a sort of scalp dance.
These steps shouldn't be exaggerated, just suggested. The Student
stands facing the audience, then retreats toward the window, sluggish
and ill, as if in a trance.
THE PROFESSOR Repeat after me, repeat after me: dagger ...
dagger .. dagger ...
THE STUDENT Everything aches ... my throat ... dag ...
my neck ... oh, my shoulders, my breasts ... dagger ...
THE PROFESSOR Dagger ... dagger ... dagger ...
THE STUDENT My hips ... dagger ... my thighs ... dag ...
THE PROFESSOR Mind your pronunciation... dagger ...
dagger ...
THE STUDENT Dagger ... my throat ...
89

THE PROFESSOR Dagger ... dagger ...

THE STUDENT Dagger ... my shoulders, my arms, my
breasts, my hips ... dagger . . dagger .. .
THE PROFESSOR That's it. Now you're pronouncing well...
THE STUDENT Dagger ... my breasts ... my belly ...
THE PROFESSOR (changing his voice) Watch out ... don't
break my windows ... the dagger kills...
THE STUDENT (in a weak voice) Yes, yes ... the dagger kills?
THE PROFESSOR (killing her with a spectacular thrust of the dagger)
Aaah! So be it!
Murderer and victim cry "Aaah!" simultaneously. The Student then
falls into a chair near the window, landing in an obscene position, her
legs spread wide on either side of the chair. The Professor stands over
her with his back to the audience and plunges the dagger in a second
time, slashing her upward, from bottom to top, his entire body
convulsing in a prolonged shudder
THE PROFESSOR (winded, mumbling) Bitch ... That was
good... . That did me good. . . . Ah! . Ah! . I'm
wiped out. I can hardly breathe... . Aaaah!
 He struggles for breath and falls; luckily a chair is there; he mops
his brow, muttering incomprehensibly; his breathing returns to
normal. He rises and looks at the dagger in his hand, he gazes
at the young girl and is suddenly stricken with panic, as if waking
from a dream.
THE PROFESSOR What have I done? What's going to happen
to me now? What's going to happen? Son of a ... This is
not good, not good at all! Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle, get
up! (agitated, not knowing what to do with the invisible dagger in
his hand) See here, young lady, the lesson is over. . . . You
9o

may go. . . . You can pay me another time... . Oh! she's

dead ... dead, dead... . And by my dagger ... She is dead.
. This is terrible. (calling the maid) Marie! Marie! My dear
Marie, come here! Oh! Oh! (The door to the right opens. Marie
appears.) No ... don't come in. . . . I made a mistake. . . . I
don't need you, Marie... . I don't need you anymore ...
do you hear me? ...
Marie enters looking stern, she eyes the corpse without saying a word.
THE PROFESSOR (increasingly undone) I don't need you,
Marie...
THE MAID (sarcastic) So, are you pleased with your student,
did she do well with her lesson?
THE PROFESSOR (hiding the dagger behind his back) Yes, the
lesson is finished ... but ... she ... she's still here ... she
doesn't want to leave.
THE MAID (harshly) So it seems!
THE PROFESSOR (trembling) I didn't do it... It wasn't me.
. Marie ... No ... I swear ... I didn't do it, my little
Marie...
THE MAID Then who was it? Who did this? Me?
THE PROFESSOR I don't know... . Maybe ...
THE MAID Or the cat?
THE PROFESSOR It's possible. I don't know...
THE MAID This is the fortieth time today! ... Every day it's
the same thing! Every day! You should be ashamed of
yourself ... at your age. . . . You're going to make yourself
sick! You won't have any more students. It will serve you
right.
91
 THE PROFESSOR (angry) It's not my fault. She didn't want to
learn! She was defiant. She was a bad student! She didn't
want to learn!
THE MAID Liar!
THE PROFESSOR (slyly approaching her with the dagger behind his
back) It's none of your business!
The Professor tries to give her a serious blow with the dagger, but the
Maid seizes his wrist and twists it hard. The Professor drops his
weapon.
THE PROFESSOR I'm sorry!
The Maid slaps him with two resounding blows. The Professor falls to
the floor on his ass, sniveling.
THE MAID Little murderer! Bastard! Filthy pig! You were
going to try that on me? I'm not one of your students! Not
me!
She pulls him up by the collar, grabs his skullcap and puts it back on
his head. Afraid she'll slap him again, he shields his face with his
elbows like a child.
THE MAID Put the dagger back where it belongs, go on!
The Professor puts it in a drawer and returns.
THE MAID Didn't I warn you just a little while ago: arithmetic
leads to philology and philology leads to crime...
THE PROFESSOR You just said, "to Disaster."
THE MAID It's the same thing.
THE PROFESSOR Then I didn't understand you. I thought
"Disaster" was a city and that you were trying to say that
philology leads to the city of Disaster...
92

THE MAID Liar! Old fox! A scholar like you doesn't trip over
the meaning of words. Don't put me on!
THE PROFESSOR (sobbing) I didn't mean to kill her!
THE MAID Are you sorry, at least?
THE PROFESSOR Oh, yes, Marie. I swear!
THE MAID I pity you just the same. Ah! You're a brave boy
nevertheless. We'll think of something. But don't start up
again... . It will give you a heart attack.
THE PROFESSOR Yes, Marie. What are we going to do now?
THE MAID Bury her ... plus the thirty-nine others while
we're at it...
 . That will come to forty coffins ... I'll call
the undertakers and my lover, Father Auguste... . We'll
order the wreaths...
THE PROFESSOR Yes, Marie, thank you from the bottom of
my heart.
THE MAID Done. It's not worth the trouble to call Auguste,
since you're a bit of a priest yourself at times, that is if one
believes the gossip.
THE PROFESSOR Now don't pick out expensive wreaths. She
didn't pay for her lesson.
THE MAID Don't worry... . Could you at least cover her
with a tablecloth? She's indecent. Then we can carry her
out.
THE PROFESSOR Yes, Marie, yes. (covering her) We could get
caught ... with forty coffins... . You can imagine...
People will be amazed. And what if they want to know
what's inside?
93

THE MAID Don't be such a worrywart. We'll say they're

empty. Besides, people don't ask questions, they're used to
these things.*

THE PROFESSOR Just the same ...

The Maid takes out an armband with an insignia, perhaps a Nazi
swastika.
THE MAID Hold on, if you're afraid, just put this on and
you'll have nothing to fear. (placing it around his arm) It's just
politics.
THE PROFESSOR Thank you, my little Marie, now I can
breathe easy... . You're a good girl, Marie ... a devoted
servant...
THE MAID That's enough. Let's get moving, Professor. Are
you all right?
THE PROFESSOR Yes, my little Marie.
They take the young girl's corpse, one by the shoulders, the other by
the legs, and head toward the door on the right.
THE PROFESSOR Be careful now. We don't want to hurt
her.
They exit. The room is empty for several moments. Then the bell
rings from the door on the left
THE MAID'S VOICE Just a minute! I'm coming!
She enters exactly as she did at the beginning and goes toward the
door. The bell rings a second time.
*Author's note: In the Paris production the following two passages were
dropped as well as the armband, in order not to slow down the rhythm.
94

THE MAID (to herse This one's certainly in a hurry!

(loud) Hold your horses! (opening the door on the left.) Good
day, Mademoiselle. Are you the new student? Have you
come for your lesson? The Professor is waiting for you. I'll
tell him you're here. He'll be down in just a moment.
Please come in, come in, Mademoiselle.
CURTAIN
95

The Leader

CHAR

THE ANN
THE You1
THE GIRL-
THE ADMI
THE GIRL
THE LEAD:

110 IONESCO

After him!' The ANNOUNCER and the Two ADMIRERS

leave, crying: `Leader! Leeeeader! Lee-ee-eader!' (This last
`Lee-ee-eader!' echoes in the wings like a bleating cry.) ]
[Silence. The stage is empty for a few brief moments. The YOUNG

LOVER enters right, and his GIRL-FRIEND left; they meet centre-
stage.]
YOUNG LOVER. Forgive me, Madame, or should I say Mademoi-

selle?
GIRL-FRIEND: I beg your pardon, I'm afraid I don't happen to
know you !

YOUNG LOVER: And I'm afraid I don't know you either!

 GIRL-FRIEND : Then neither of us knows each other.
YOUNG LOVER: Exactly. We have something in common. It

means that between us there is a basis of understanding on

which we can build the edifice of our future.
GIRL-FRIEND: That leaves me cold, I'm afraid.
[She makes as if to go.]
YOUNG LOVER: Oh, my darling, I adore you.
GIRL-FRIEND: Darling, so do I !

[They embrace.]
YOUNG LOVER: I'm taking you with me, darling. We'll get

married straightaway.
[They leave left. The stage is empty for a brief moment.]

ANNOUNCER: [enters up-stage followed by the Two ADMIRERS] But

the leader swore that he'd be passing here.
ADMIRER: Are you absolutely sure of that?
ANNOUNCER: Yes, yes, of course.
GIRL ADMIRER: Was it really on his way?

ANNOUNCER: Yes, yes. He should have passed by here, it was

marked on the Festival programme ...
ADMIRER: Did you actually see it yourself and hear it with your
own eyes and ears?
ANNOUNCER: He told someone. Someone else!
ADMIRER: But who? Who was this someone else?
GIRL ADMIRER: Was it a reliable person? A friend of yours?
ANNOUNCER: A friend of mine who I know very well. [Suddenly

THE LEADER III

in the baceeground one hears renewed cries of `Hurrah !' and `Long
live the leader ►'] That's him now ! There he is ! Hip ! Hip !
Hurrah ! There he is ! Hide yourselves ! Hide yourselves !
[The Two ADMIRERS flatten themselves as before against the
wall, stretching their necks out towards the wings from where the
shouts of acclamation come; the ANNOUNCER watches fixedly up-
stage his back to the public.]
ANNOUNCER: The leader's coming. He-approaches. He's bending.

He's unbending. [At each of the ANNOUNCER's words, the

ADMIRERS give a start and stretch their necks even farther; they
shudder.] He's jumping. He's crossed the river. They're shaking
his hand. He sticks out his thumb. Can you hear? They're
laughing. [The ANNOUNCER and the Two ADMIRERS also laugh.]
Ah ... ! they're giving him a box of tools. What's he going to
 do with them? Ah ... ! he's signing autographs. The leader
is stroking a hedgehog, a superb hedgehog ! The crowd
applauds. He's dancing, with the hedgehog in his hand. He's
embracing his dancer. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! [Cries are heard in the
wings.] He's being photographed, with his dancer on one hand
and the hedgehog on the other ... He greets the crowd ...

He spits a tremendous distance.

GIRL ADMIRER: Is he coming past here? Is he coming in our
direction?
ADMIRER: Are we really on his route?

ANNOUNCER: [turns his head to the Two ADMIRERs] Quite, and

don't move, you're spoiling everything .. .
GIRL ADMIRER: But even so ...
ANNOUNCER: Keep quiet, I tell you ! Didn't I tell you he' d
promised, that he had fixed his itinerary himself... [He turns
back up-stage and cries.] Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Long live the leader !
[Silence] Long live, long live, the leader ! [Silence] Long live,
long live, long live the lead-er ! [The Two ADMIRERS, unable
to contain themselves, also give a sudden cry of.] Hurrah ! Long live
the leader !
ANNOUNCER: [to the ADMIRERS] Quiet, you two ! Calm down !
You're spoiling everything ! [Then, once more looking up-stage,

112 IONESCO

with the ADMIRERS silenced.] Long live the leader ! [Wildly

enthusiastic.] Hurrah! Hurrah! He's changing his shirt. He
disappears behind a red screen. He reappears ! [The applause
inters jes.] Bravo ! Bravo ! [The ADMIRERS also long to cry
`Bravo' and applaud; they put their hands to their mouths to stop
themselves.] He's putting his de on ! He's reading his newspaper
and drinking his morning coffee ! He's still got his hedgehog
. He's leaning on the edge of the parapet. The parapet
breaks. He gets up ... he gets up unaided ! [Applause, shouts
of `Hurrah !] Bravo ! Well done ! He brushes his soiled
clothes.
Two ADMIRERS: [stamping their feet] Oh ! Ah ! Oh ! Oh ! Ah ! Ah !

ANNOUNCER: He's mounting the stool! He's climbing piggy-

back, they're offering him a thin-ended wedge, he knows it's
meant as a joke, and he doesn't mind, he's laughing.
[Applause and enormous acclaim.]
ADMIRER: [to the GIRL. ADMIRER] You hear that? You hear? Oh!
 If I were king ...
GIRT. ADMIRER: Ah ... ! the leader !
[This is said in an exalted tone.]
ANNOUNCER: [still with his back to the public] He's mounting the
stool. No. He's getting down. A little girl offers him a bouquet
of flowers ... What's he going to do? He takes the flowers
. He embraces the little girl ... calls her 'my child'.. .
ADMIRER: He embraces the little girl ... calls her `my child'.. .
GIRL ADMIRER: He embraces the little girl ... calls her `my
child'...
ANNOUNCER: He gives her the hedgehog. The little girl's
crying ... Long live the leader ! Long live the leead-er !
ADMIRER: Is he coming past here?
GIRL ADMIRER: Is he coming past here?
ANNOUNCER: [with a sudden run, dashes out up-stage] He's going
away ! Hurry! Come on !
[He disappears, followed by the Two ADMIRERS, all crying
`Hurrah ! Hurrah !']
[The stage is empty for a few moments. The Two LovERs enter,

THE LEADER 113

entwined in an embrace; they halt centre-stage and separate; she

carries a basket on her arm.]
GIRL-FRIEND: Let's go to the market and get some eggs!

YOUNG LOVER: Oh ! I love them as much as you do !

[She takes his arm. From the right the ANNOUNCER arrives

running, quickly regaining his place, back to the public, foilowed

closely by the Two ADMIRERS, arriving one from the left and the

other from the right; the Two ADMIRERS knock into the Two
LOVERS who were about to leave right.]
ADMIRER: Sorry!
YOUNG LOVER : Oh ! Sorry!

GIRL ADMIRER : Sorry! Oh ! Sorry!

GIRL-FRIEND : Oh ! Sorry, sorry, sorry, so sorry !
ADMIRER: Sorry, sorry, sorry, oh ! sorry, sorry, so sorry!

YOUNG LOVER: Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ! So sorry, everyone !

GIRL-FRIEND : [to her LOVER] Come along, Adolphe ! [To the Two
ADMIRERS:] No harm done !

[She leaves, leading her LOVER by the hand.]

ANNOUNCER: [watching up-stage] The leader is being pressed
forward, and pressed back, and now they're pressing his
 trousers ! [The Two ADMIRERS regain their places.] The leader is
smiling. Whilst they're pressing his trousers, he walks about.
He tastes the flowers and the fruits growing in the stream.
He's also tasting the roots of the trees. He suffers the little
children to come unto him. He has confidence in everybody.
He inaugurates the police force. He pays tribute to justice. He

salutes the great victors and the great vanquished. Finally he

recites a poem. The people are very moved.
Two ADMIRERS: Bravo ! Bravo ! [Then, sobbing:] Boo ! Boo !
Boo!

ANNOUNCER: All the people are weeping. [Loud cries are heard
from the wings; the ANNOUNCER and the ADMIRERS also start to
bellow.] Silence ! [The Two ADMIRERS fall silent; and there is
silence from the wings.] They've given the leader's trousers back.
The leader puts them on. He looks happy ! Hurrah ! [`Bravos',
and acclaim from the wings. The Two ADMIRERS also shout their

114 IONESCO
acclaim, jump about, without being able to see anything of what is
presumed to be happening in the wings.] The leader's sucking his

thumb! [To the Two ADMIRERS:] Back, back to your places,

you two, don't move, behave yourselves and shout: `Long

live the leader!'

Two ADMIRERS: [flattened against the wall, shouting] Long live,
long live the leader !
ANNOUNCER: Be quiet, I tell you, you'll spoil everything ! Look
out, the leader's coming !
ADMIRER: [in the same position] The leader's coming !
GIRL ADMIRER: The leader's coining !
ANNOUNCER: Watch out ! And keep quiet ! Oh ! The leader's
going away ! Follow him ! Follow me !
[The ANNOUNCER goes out up-stage, running; the Two
ADMIRERS leave right and left, whilst in the wings the acclaim
mounts, then fades. The stage is momentarily empty. The YOUNG
LOVER, followed by his GIRL-FRIEND, appear left running across
the stage right.]
YOUNG LOVER: [running] You won't catch me! You won't
catch me !
[Goes out.]
GIRL-FRIEND: [running] Wait a moment ! Wait a moment !
[She goes out. The stage is empty for a moment; then once more
 the Two LOVERS cross the stage at a run, and leave.]
YOUNG LOVER: You won't catch me!
GIRL-FRIEND: Wait a moment!
[They leave right. The stage is empty. The ANNOUNCER re-
appears up-stage, the ADMIRER from the right, the GIRL ADMIRER

from the left. They meet centre.]

ADMIRER: We missed him !
GIRL ADMIRER: Rotten luck !
ANNOUNCER: It was your fault !
ADMIRER: That's not true !

GIRL ADMIRER: No, that's not true !

ANNOUNCER: Are you suggesting it was mine?
ADMIRER: No, we didn't mean that !

THE LEADER I I j

GIRL ADMIRER : No, we didn't mean that !

[Noise of acclaim and `Hurrahs' from the wings.]
ANNOUNCER: Hurrah !

GIRL ADMIRER: It's from over there ! [She points up-stage.]

ADMIRER: Yes, it's from over there ! [He points left.]

ANNOUNCER: Very well. Follow me ! Long live the leader !

[He runs out right, followed by the Two ADMIRERS, also
shouting.]
Two ADMIRERS : Long live the leader !
[They leave. The stage is empty for a moment. The YOUNG

LOVER and his GIRL-FRIEND appear left; the YOUNG LOVER

exits up-stage; the GIRL-FRIEND, after saying `I'llget you!', runs
out right. The ANNOUNCER and the Two ADMIRERS appear

from up-stage.TheANNOUNCER says to the ADMIRERS:] Long

live the leader ! [This is repeated by the ADMIRERS. Then, still
talking to the ADMIRERS, he says:] Follow me ! Follow the
leader ! [He leaves up-stage, still running and shouting:] Follow
him!

[The ADMIRER exits right, the GIRL ADMIRER left into the wings.
During the whole of this, the acclaim is heard louder or fainter
according to the rhythm of the stage action; the stage is empty for
a moment, then the LOVERS appear from right and left, crying:]

YOUNG LOVER: IT get you !

GIRL-FRIEND: You won't get me!
[They leave at a run, shouting:] Long live the leader! [The
ANNOUNCER and the Two ADMIRERS emerge from up-stage,
 also shouting: `Long live the leader', followed by the Two
LOVERS. They all leave right, in single file, crying as they run:
`The leader! Long live the leader! We'll get him! It's from over
here! You won't get me!']
[They enter and leave, employing all the exits; finally, entering
from left, from right, and from up-stage they all meet centre,
whilst the acclaim and the applause from the wings becomes a
fearful din. They embrace each other feverishly, crying at the tops
.of their voices:] Long live the leader ! Long live the leader !
Long live the leader 1

116 IONESCO

[Then, abruptly, silence falls.]

ANNOUNCER: The leader is arriving. Here's the leader. To your

places ! Attention !
[The ADMIRER and the GIRL-FRIEND flatten themselves against
the wall right; the GIRL ADMIRER and the YOUNG LOVER
against the wall left; the two couples are in each other's arms,
embracing.]
ADMIRER and

GIRL-FRIEND: My dear, my darling !

GIRL ADMIRER and

YOUNG LOVER: My dear, my darling !

[Meanwhile the ANNOUNCER has taken up his place, back to the
audience, looking fixedly up-stage; a lull in the applause,]
ANNOUNCER: Silence. The leader has eaten his soup. He is
coming. He is nigh.
[The acclaim redoubles its intensity; the Two ADMIRERS and
the Two LovERS shout:]
ALL: Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Long live the leader !
[They throw confetti before he arrives. Then the ANNOUNCER

hurls himself suddenly to one side to allow the LEADER to pass;

the other four characters freeze with outstretched arms holding
confetti; but still say:] Hurrah ! [The LEADER enters from up-
stage, advances down-stage to centre; to the footlights, hesitates,
makes a step to left, then takes a decision and leaves with great,
energetic strides by right, to the enthusiastic `Hurrahs!' of the
ANNOUNCER and the feeble, somewhat astonished `Hurrahs!' of
the other four; these, in fact, have some reason to be surprised, as
the LEADER is headless, though wearing a hat. This is simple to
fect: the actor playing the LEADER needing only to wear an ef
overcoat with the collar turned up round his forehead and topped
with a hat. The-man-in-an-overcoat-with-a-hat-without-a-head
is a somewhat surprising apparition and will doubtless produce a
certain sensation. After the LEADER's disappearance, the GIRL
ADMIRER says:]

GIRL ADMIRER: But ... but. . . the leader hasn't got a head !
ANNOUNCER: What's he need a head for when he's got genius !

THE LEADER 117

YOUNG LOVER: That's true! [To the GIRL-FRIEND.] What's your
name?
[The YOUNG LOVER to the GIRL ADMIRER, the GIRL ADMIRER
to the ANNOUNCER, the ANNOUNCER to the GIRL-FRIEND, the
GIRL-FRIEND to the YOUNG LOVER:] What's yours? What's

yours? What's yours? [Then, all together, one to the other:]

What's your name?
CURTAIN