Ends and Odds Read online

  A: Crabbed youth! No pity! (Thump with ruler.) Do you mark me? On! (Silence.) Dick! (Swish and thud of pizzle on flesh. Faint cry from FOX.) Off record, Miss, remember?

  S: Drat it! Where’s that eraser?

  A: Erase, Miss, erase, we’re in trouble enough already. (Ruler.) On! (Silence.) Dickl

  F: Ah yes, that for sure, live I did, no denying, all stones all sides—

  A: One moment.

  F: —walls no further—

  A (ruler): Silence! Dick! (Silence. Musing.) Live I did … (Pause.) Has he used that turn before, Miss?

  S: To what turn do you allude, Sir?

  A: Live I did.

  S: Oh yes, Sir, it’s a notion crops up now and then. Perhaps not in those precise terms, so far, that I could not say offhand. But allusions to a life, though not common, are not rare.

  A: His own life?

  S: Yes, Sir, a life all his own.

  A (disappointed): I might have known. (Pause.) What a memory–mine! (Pause.) Have you read the Purgatory, Miss, of the divine Florentine?

  S: Alas no, Sir, I have merely flipped through the Inferno.

  A (incredulous): Not read the Purgatory?

  S: Alas no, Sir.

  A: There all sigh, I was, I was. It’s like a knell. Strange, is it not?

  S: In what sense, Sir?

  A:Why, one would rather have expected, I shall be. No?

  S (with tender condescension): The creatures! (Pause.) It is getting on for three, Sir.

  A (sigh): Good. Where were we?

  S: “… walls no further—”

  A: Before that, Miss, the house is not on fire.

  S: “… live I did, no denying, all stones all sides”—inaudible—”walls—”

  A (ruler): On! (Silence.) Dick!

  S: Sir.

  A (impatiently): What is it, Miss, can’t you see that old time is aflying?

  S: I was going to suggest a touch of kindness, Sir, perhaps just a hint of kindness.

  A: So soon? And then? (Firmly.) No, Miss, I appreciate your sentiment. But I have my method. Shall I remind you of it? (Pause. Pleading.) Don’t say no! (Pause.) Oh you are an angel! You may sit, Dick. (Pause.) In a word, REDUCE the pressure instead of increasing it. (Lyrical.) Caress, fount of resipescence! (Calmer.) Dick, if you would. (Swish and thud of pizzle on flesh. Faint cry from FOX.) Careful, Miss.

  S: Have no fear, Sir.

  A (ruler):… walls … walls what?

  S: “no further,” Sir.

  A: Right. (Ruler.) … walls no further … (Ruler.) On! (Silence.) Dickl

  F: That for sure, no further, and there gaze, all the way up, all the way down, slow gaze, age upon age, up again, down again, little lichens of my little span, living dead in the stones, and there took to the tunnels. (Silence. Ruler.) Oceans too, that too, no denying, I drew near, down the tunnels, blue above, blue ahead, that for sure, and there too, no further, ways end, all ends and farewell, farewell and fall, farewell seasons, till I fare again. (Silence. Ruler.) Farewell.

  Silence. Ruler. Pause.

  A: Dick!

  F: That for sure, no denying, no further, down in Spring, up in Fall, or inverse, such summers missed, such winters.

  Pause.

  A: Nice! Nicely put! Such summers missed! So sibilant! Don’t you agree, Miss?

  F

  Ah that for sure—

  (together):

  S

  Oh me you know—

  A: Hsst!

  F: —fatigue, what fatigue, my brother inside me, my old twin, ah to be he and he—but no, no no. (Pause.) No no. (Silence. Ruler.) Me get up, me go on, what a hope, it was he, for hunger. Have yourself opened, Maud would say, opened up, it’s nothing, I’ll give him suck if he’s still alive, ah but no, no no. (Pause.) No no.

  Silence.

  A (discouraged): Ah dear.

  S: He is weeping, Sir, shall I note it?

  A: I really do not know what to advise, Miss.

  S: Inasmuch as … how shall I say? … human trait … can one say in English?

  A: I have never come across it, Miss, but no doubt.

  F: Scrabble scrabble—

  A: Silence! (Pause.) No holding him!

  S: As such … I feel … perhaps … at a pinch …

  Pause.

  A: Are you familiar with the works of Sterne, Miss?

  S: Alas no, Sir.

  A: I may be quite wrong, but I seem to remember, there somewhere, a tear an angel comes to catch as it falls. Yes, I seem to remember … Admittedly he was grandchild to an archbishop. (Half rueful, half complacent.) Ah these old spectres from the days of book reviewing, they lie in wait for one at every turn. (Pause. Suddenly decided.) Note it, Miss, note it, and come what may. As well for a sheep … (Pause.) Who is this woman … what’s the name?

  S: Maud. I don’t know, Sir, no previous mention of her has been made.

  A (excited): Are you sure?

  S: Positive, Sir. You see, my nanny was a Maud, so that the name would have struck me, had it been pronounced.

  Pause.

  A: I may be quite wrong, but I somehow have the feeling this is the first time—oh I know it’s a far call!—that he has actually … named anyone. No?

  S: That may well be, Sir. To make sure I would have to check through from the beginning. That would take time.

  A: Kith and kin?

  S: Never a word, Sir. I have been struck by it. Mine play such

  a part, in my life!

  A: And of a sudden, in the same sentence, a woman, with

  Christian name to boot, and a brother. I ask you!

  Pause.

  S: That twin, Sir …

  A: I know, not very convincing.

  S (scandalized): But it’s quite simply impossible! Inside him! Him!

  A: No no, such things happen, such things happen. Nature, you know … (Faint laugh.) Fortunately. A world without monsters, just imagine! (Pause for imagining.) No, that is not what troubles me. (Warmly.) Look you, Miss, what counts is not so much the thing, in itself, that would astonish me too. No, it’s the word, the notion. The notion brother is not unknown to him! (Pause.) But what really matters is this woman—what name did you say?

  S: Maud, Sir.

  A: Maud!

  S: And who is in milk, what is more, or about to be.

  A: For mercy’s sake! (Pause.) How does the passage go again?

  S (rereading):“Me get up, me go on, what a hope, it was he, for hunger. Have yourself opened, Maud would say, opened up, it’s nothing, I’ll give him suck if he’s still alive, ah but no, no no.” (Pause.) “No no.”

  Pause.

  A: And then the tear.

  S: Exactly, Sir. What I call the human trait.

  Pause.

  A (low, with emotion): Miss.

  S: Sir.

  A: Can it be we near our goal. (Pause.) Oh how bewitching you look when you show your teeth! Ah were I but … thirty years younger.

  S: It is well after three, Sir.

  A (sigh): Good. Where he left off. Once more.

  S: “Oh but no, no—”

  A: Ah but no. No?

  S: You are quite right, Sir. “Ah but no, no—”

  A (severely): Have a care, Miss.

  S: “Ah but no, no no.” (Pause.) “No no.”

  A (ruler): On! (Silence.) Dick!

  S: He has gone off, Sir.

  A: Just a shade lighter, Dick. (Mild thud of pizzle.) Ah no, you exaggerate, better than that. (Swish and violent thud. Faint cry from FOX. Ruler.) Ah but no, no no. On!

  F (scream): Let me out! Peter out in the stones!

  A: Ah dear! There he goes again. Peter out in the stones!

  S: It’s a mercy he’s tied.

  A (gently): Be reasonable, Fox. Stop-you may sit, Dick stop jibbing. It’s hard on you, we know. It does not lie entirely with us, we know. You might prattle away to your latest breath and still the one … thing remain unsaid that can give you back your darling solitudes, we know. But th
is much is sure: the more you say the greater your chances. Is that not so, Miss?

  S: It stands to reason, Sir.

  A (as to a backward pupil): Don’t ramble! Treat the subject, whatever it is! (Snivel.) More variety! (Snivel.) Those everlasting wilds may have their charm, but there is nothing there for us, that would astonish me. (Snivel.) Those micaceous schists, if you knew the effect (snivel) they can have on one, in the long run. (Snivel.) And your fauna! Those fodient rodents! (Snivel.) You wouldn’t have a handkerchief, Miss, you could lend me?

  S: Here you are, Sir.

  A: Most kind. (Blows nose abundantly.) Much obliged.

  S: Oh you may keep it, Sir.

  A: No no, now I’ll be all right. (To FOX.) Of course we do not know, any more than you, what exactly it is we are after, what sign or set of words. But since you have failed so far to let it escape you, it is not by harking on the same old themes that you are likely to succeed, that would astonish me.

  S: He has gone off again, Sir.

  A (warming to his point): Someone, perhaps that is what is wanting, someone who once saw you … (abating)… go by. I may be quite wrong, but try, at least try, what do you stand to lose? (Beside himself.) Even though it is not true!

  S (shocked): Oh Sir!

  A: A father, a mother, a friend, a … Beatrice-no, that is asking too much. Simply someone, anyone, who once saw you … go by. (Pause.) That woman … what’s the name?

  S: Maud, Sir.

  A: That Maud, for example, perhaps you once brushed against each other. Think hard!

  S: He has gone off, Sir.

  A: Dick!—no, wait. Kiss him, Miss, perhaps that will stir some fibre.

  S: Where, Sir?

  A: In his heart, in his entrails—or some other part.

  S: No, I mean kiss him where, Sir?

  A (angry): Why on his stinker of a mouth, what do you suppose? (STENOGRAPHER kisses FOX. Howl from FOX.) Till it bleeds! Kiss it white! (Howl from FOX.) Suck his gullet!

  Silence.

  S: He has fainted away, Sir.

  A: Ah … perhaps I went too far. (Pause.) Perhaps I slipped you too soon.

  S: Oh no, Sir, you could not have waited a moment longer, time is up. (Pause.) The fault is mine, I did not go about it as I ought.

  A: Come, come, Miss! To the marines! (Pause.) Up already! (Pained.) I chatter too much.

  S: Come, come, Sir, don’t say that, it is part of your role, as animator.

  Pause.

  A: That tear, Miss, do you remember?

  S: Oh yes, Sir, distinctly.

  A (faint hope): Not the first time by any chance?

  S: Heavens no, Sir, what an idea!

  A (disappointed): I might have known.

  S: Last winter, now I come to think of it, he shed several, do you not remember?

  A: Last winter! But, my dear child, I don’t remember yesterday, it is down the hatch with love’s young dream. Last winter! (Pause. Low, with emotion.) Miss.

  S (low): Sir.

  A: That … Maud.

  Pause.

  S (encouraging): Yes, Sir.

  A: Well … you know … I may be wrong … I wouldn’t like to … I hardly dare say it … but it seems to me that … here … possibly … we have something at last.

  S: Would to God, Sir.

  A: Particularly with that tear so hard behind. It is not the first, agreed. But in such a context!

  S: And the milk, Sir, don’t forget the milk.

  A: The breast! One can almost see it!

  S: Who got her into that condition, there’s another question for us.

  A: What condition, Miss, I fail to follow you.

  S: Someone has fecundated her. (Pause. Impatient.) If she is in milk someone must have fecundated her.

  A: To be sure!

  S: Who?

  A (very excited): You mean …

  S: I ask myself.

  Pause.

  A: May we have that passage again, Miss?

  S: “Have yourself opened, Maud would say, opened—”

  A (delighted): That frequentative! (Pause.) Sorry, Miss.

  S: “Have yourself opened, Maud would say, opened up—”

  A: Don’t skip, Miss, the text in its entirety if you please.

  S: I skip nothing, Sir. (Pause.) What have I skipped, Sir?

  A (emphatically): “… between two kisses …” (Sarcastic.) That mere trifle! (Angry.) How can we ever hope to get anywhere if you suppress gems of that magnitude?

  S: But, Sir, he never said anything of the kind.

  A (angry): “… Maud would say, between two kisses, etc.” Amend.

  S: But, Sir, I—

  A: What the devil are you deriding, Miss? My hearing? My memory? My good faith? (Thunderous.) Amend!

  S (feebly): As you will, Sir.

  A: Let us hear how it runs now.

  S (tremulous): “Have yourself opened, Maud would say, between two kisses, opened up, it’s nothing, I’ll give him suck if he’s still alive, ah but no, no no.” (Faint pencil.) “No no.”

  Silence.

  A: Don’t cry, Miss, dry your pretty eyes and smile at me. Tomorrow, who knows, we may be free.

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  CLURMAN, HAROLD / Nine Plays of the Modern Theater (Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett; The Visit by Friedrich Durrenmatt; Tango by Slawomir Mrozek; The Caucasian Chalk Circle by Bertolt Brecht; The Balcony by Jean Genet; Rhinoceros by Eugene lonesco; American Buffalo by David Mamet; The Birthday Party by Harold Pinter; and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead by Tom Stoppard) / $15.95

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