Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 127

LUKA. Oh, sir. Go away. Go away from here.

SMIRNOV. That _is_ a woman. I can understand her. A real woman. No s.h.i.+lly-shallying, but fire, powder, and noise! It would be a pity to shoot a woman like that.

LUKA [_weeping_]. Oh, sir; go away.

[_Enter Mrs. Popov._]

MRS. POPOV. Here are the pistols. But before we have our duel please show me how to shoot. I have never had a pistol in my hand before!

LUKA. G.o.d be merciful and have pity upon us! I'll go and get the gardener and the coachman. Why has this horror come to us! [_He goes out._]

SMIRNOV [_looking at the pistols_]. You see there are different kinds of pistols. There are special duelling pistols with cap and ball. But these are revolvers, Smith & Wesson, with ejectors, fine pistols. A pair like that cost at least ninety rubles. This is the way to hold a revolver.

[_Aside._] Those eyes, those eyes! A real woman!

MRS. POPOV. Like this?

SMIRNOV. Yes, that way. Then you pull the hammer back--so--then you aim--put your head back a little--just stretch your arm out, please.

So--then press your finger on the thing like that, and that is all. The chief thing is this: don't get excited, don't hurry your aim, and take care that your hand doesn't tremble.

MRS. POPOV. It isn't as well to shoot inside, let's go into the garden.

SMIRNOV. Yes. I'll tell you now that I am going to shoot into the air.

MRS. POPOV. That is too much. Why?

SMIRNOV. Because--because--That's my business why.

MRS. POPOV. You are afraid. Yes. A-h-h-h. No, no, my dear sir, no welching. Please follow me. I won't rest myself, until I've made a hole in your head that I hate so much. Are you afraid?

SMIRNOV. Yes, I'm afraid.

MRS. POPOV. You are lying. Why won't you fight?

SMIRNOV. Because--because--I--like you.

MRS. POPOV [_with an angry laugh_]. You like me! He dares to say that he likes me. [_She points to the door._] Go.

SMIRNOV [_laying the revolver silently on the table, takes his hat and goes; at the door he stops a moment gazing at her silently, then he approaches her undecidedly_]. Listen? Are you still angry? I was mad as the devil, but please understand me--how can I express myself?--The thing is like this--such things are--[_He raises his voice._] How is it my fault that you owe me money? [_Grasps the chair back which breaks._]

The devil knows what breakable furniture you have! I like you! Do you understand?--I--I'm almost in love!

MRS. POPOV. Leave. I hate you.

SMIRNOV. Lord! What a woman! I never in my life met one like her. I'm lost, ruined! I've been caught like a mouse in a trap.

MRS. POPOV. Go, or I'll shoot.

SMIRNOV. Shoot! You have no idea what happiness it would be to die in sight of those beautiful eyes, to die from the revolver in this little velvet hand--I'm mad! Consider it and decide immediately for if I go now; we shall never see each other again. Decide--speak--I am a n.o.ble, a respectable man, have an income of ten thousand, can shoot a coin thrown into the air--I own some fine horses. Will you be my wife?

MRS. POPOV [_swings the revolver angrily_]. Shoot!

SMIRNOV. My mind is not clear--I can't understand--servant--water! I have fallen in love like any young man. [_He takes her hand and she cries with pain._] I love you! [_He kneels._] I love you as I have never loved before. Twelve women, I threw over, nine were untrue to me, but not one of them all have I loved as I love you. I am conquered, lost, I lie at your feet like a fool and beg for your hand. Shame and disgrace!

For five years I haven't been in love, I thanked the Lord for it and now I am caught, like a carriage tongue in another carriage. I beg for your hand! Yes or no? Will you?--Good! [_He gets up and goes to the door quickly._]

MRS. POPOV. Wait a moment--

SMIRNOV [_stopping_]. Well?

MRS. POPOV. Nothing. You may go. But--wait a moment. No, go on, go on. I hate you. Or no. Don't go. Oh, if you knew how angry I was, how angry!

[_She throws the revolver onto the chair._] My finger is swollen from this thing. [_She angrily tears her handkerchief._] What are you standing there for? Get out!

SMIRNOV. Farewell!

MRS. POPOV. Yes, go. [_Cries out._] What are you going for? Wait--no, go!! Oh, how angry I am! Don't come too near, don't come too near--er--come--no nearer.

SMIRNOV [_approaching her_]. How angry I am with myself. Fallen in love like a school-boy, thrown myself on my knees. I've got a chill!

[_Strongly._] I love you. This is fine,--all I needed was to fall in love. To-morrow I have to pay my interest, the hay harvest has begun and then you appear. [_He takes her in his arms._] I can never forgive myself.

MRS. POPOV. Go away! Take your hands off me! I hate you--you--this is--[_A long kiss._]

[_Enter Luka with an ax, the gardener with a rake, the coachman with a pitch-fork, workmen with poles._]

LUKA [_staring at the pair_]. Merciful Heavens! [_A long pause._]

MRS. POPOV [_dropping her eyes_]. Tell them in the stable that Tobby isn't to have any oats.

[_Curtain._]

HIS WIDOW'S HUSBAND

A COMEDY

BY JACINTO BENEVENTE TRANSLATED BY JOHN GARRETT UNDERHILL.

Copyright, 1917, by John Garrett Underhill.

All rights reserved.

First presented at the Teatro Principe Alfonso, Madrid, on the evening of the nineteenth of October, 1908.

CHARACTERS

CAROLINA.

EUDOSIA.

PAQUITA.