Mortal Coils

Lucrezia. You've always been a mother to me. (_He stretches out his hand and seizes hers, which has gone half-way to meet him; but the balconies are too far apart to allow him to kiss it. He makes an effort and fails. He is too short in the body_,) Will you let me come onto your balcony, Lucrezia? I want to tell you how grateful I am. LUCREZIA. But you can do that from your own balcony. ALBERTO. Please, please, Lucrezia. You mustn't be cruel to me again. I can't bear it. LUCREZIA. Well, then.... Just for a moment, but for no more, (BERTINO _climbs from one balcony to the other. One is a little reminded of the trousered monkeys on the barrel organs. Arrived, he kneels down and kisses_ LUCREZIA'S _hand_.) ALBERTO. You've saved me. You've given given me a fresh desire to live and a fresh faith in life. How can I thank you enough, Lucrezia, darling? LUCREZIA (_patting his head_). There, there. _We_ are just two unhappy creatures. We must try and comfort one another. ALBERTO. What a brute I am! I never thought of your unhappiness. I am so selfish. What is it, Lucrezia? LUCREZIA. I can't tell you, Bertino; but it's very painful. ALBERTO. Poor child, poor child. (_His kisses, which started at the hand, have mounted, by this time, some way up the arm, changing perceptibly in character as they rise. At the shoulder they have a warmth which could not have been inferred from the respectful salutes which barely touched the fingers_.) Poor darling! You've given me consolation. Now you must let me comfort your unhappiness. LUCREZIA (_with an effort_). I think you ought to go back now, Bertino. ALBERTO. In a minute, my darling. There, there, poor Lucrezia. (_He puts an arm round her, kisses her hair and neck._ LUCREZIA _leans her bowed head against his chest. The sound of footsteps is heard. They both look up with scared, wide-open eyes_.) LUCREZIA. We mustn't be seen here, Bertino. What would people think? ALBERTO. I'll go back. LUCREZIA. There's no time. You must come into my room. Quickly. (_They slip through the French window, but not quickly enough to have escaped the notice of_ PAUL, _returning from his midnight stroll. The_ VICOMTE _stands for a moment looking up at the empty balcony. He laughs softly to himself, and, throwing his cigarette away, passes through the glass door into the house. All is now silent, save for the nightingales and the distant bells. The curtain comes down for a moment to indicate the passage of several hours. It rises again with the sun_. LUCREZIA's _window opens and she appears on the balcony. She stands a moment with one foot over the threshold of the long window in a listening pose. Then her eyes fall on the better half of a pair of pink pyjamas lying crumpled on the floor, like a body bereft of its soul; with her bare foot she turns it over. A little shudder plucks at her nerves, and she shakes her head as though, by this symbolic act, to shake off something clinging and contaminating. Then she steps out into the full glory of the early sun, stretching out her arms to the radiance. She bows her face into her hands, crying out loud to herself_.) LUCREZIA. Oh, why, why, why? (_The last of these Why's is caught by the_ WAITER, _who has crept forth in shirt-sleeves and list-slippers, duster in hand, to clean the tables. He looks up at her admiringly, passes his tongue over his lips. Then, with a sigh, turns to dust the tables_.) CURTAIN.