Valentin Krasnogorov

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pelicans of the wilderness

 

A short play

 

 

 

 

 

ATTENTION! All copyrights to the play are protected by the international legislation and belong to the author. Its edition and reprinting, duplication, public performance, translation into foreign languages, without a written permission of the author is forbidden.

 

 

Other plays of the author

 

 

Contacts:

 

St.-Petersburg, Russia

Tel. (7)-812-699-3701; (7)-812-550-2146

(7)-951-689-3-689 (cell.)

e-mail:  valentin.krasnogorov@gmail.com

My site: http://krasnogorov.com/?page_id=38

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am like a pelican of the wilderness: I am like an owl of the desert.

I lie awake, I have become like a lonely bird on a housetop.

 

PSALMS 102:6-7

 

 

 

CHARACTERS

 

 

 

MAN

 

WOMAN

 

DOCTOR

 

GUEST

 

A MAN IN DARK GLASSES

 

HIS COMPANION

 

OLD WOMAN


 

 

 

           The setting is an assembling of furniture pieces of different kinds and styles: a table, chairs, a disordered king-size bed, refrigerator, mirror, gas oven, telephone, wardrobe, folding screen, armchair. These items are placed on the empty space of the scene without any order. In the depth there is a copy or picture of the Rodin sculpture "Le printemps eternel": a nude girl in embraces of a young man.

 

           An old woman is stiffen in a deep, shabby armchair; her thin, meager figure is almost unnoticeable. There is a small table with medicines near to her.

 

           A woman in a motley dressing gown appears from behind the screen. She goes to the telephone, takes it with her to the bed, sits down and dials a number.

 

 

WOMAN.       Laura, good evening. Where were you lost? I'm calling you the fourth time. Oh, nothing's happened. Simply he will come soon. Honestly! And I haven't yet told you the main thing: he will propose marriage me today... Oh no, I know it quite exactly. I feel it... If you only could see how he looked at me yesterday... Well, I must finish baking the cake and tidy myself up. I'll call you later.

 

/She replaces receiver, goes to the oven, opens it, checks the cake, covers the table with a clothe, then goes to the mirror, takes off her dressing gown and studies attentively her reflection. Takes the receiver again./

 

  It's me. I don't know what dress I should put on. He's coming, and I'm not yet dressed. What evening dress, the black one with a decollete? I think so too... Sure I'm agitated. So many years alone, and suddenly... My head is really swimming.

 

/She replaces receiver, leaves the telephone on the bed and, remembering the cake, hurries to the oven, still without a dress.

An unshaved man in drawers, ripping aside the blanket, climbs out of the bed and stretches his hand to the telephone./

 

MAN. Hello, is it the clinic? I'm calling as regard to the doctor. My number is twenty two. Everything's OK? Nothing's changed? Thank you.

 

/The man replaces the receiver, stretches his hand to his pants which are thrown on a chair, but, after a look at his watch, again lies down on the bed upon the blanket and looks at the ceiling apathetically.

Meanwhile, the Woman leaves the oven, gets shoes and a black evening dress out of the wardrobe, takes a string of pearls out of a box and dresses carefully before the mirror.

The Old Woman in the armchair wants to take a phial with a medicine, but her hands don't obey her and she lets the phial drop on the floor.

The Woman, having finished dressing, lays the table beautifully. After that she goes to the mirror again and watches it thoughtfully, then looks with a doubt at the silver and crystal of the table covers. Takes the receiver./

 

WOMAN.       Laura, it's me again. Do you know, what I think? Maybe I ought not to put on this black dress? Oh, yes, it suits me OK, but I look too official in it. The man will come for an intimate conversation, and I've dressed myself up as for a gala reception... All this must occur as if by chance, and  he'll an impression that I prepared to it all the day. The cake, champagne, pearls...Am I right?... Yes... Yes... Something simple, but attractive. Thanks.

 

As soon as the Woman replaces the receiver, the Man lying in the bed takes it at once.

 

MAN.  Hello! Is it the clinic? What about the doctor? Number twenty three. Nothing's changed? Thank you.

 

/The Man puts on his pants and shirt looking now more properly, though untidy. The Woman is slowly changing her clothes. The Old Woman tries to stand up in order to take the dropped phial, but she can't tear her paralyzed body from the armchair.

An elderly man, dressed properly, enters . He's breathing heavily. Having made two or three steps , he suddenly faints and falls on his back. The perturbed man rushes to him an tries to bring him to his senses./

 

Hey!

 

/The elderly man is still unconscious. The Woman changes her clothes and takes the champagne and crystal from the table. The Man takes the visitor's pulse, then catches a syringe from the Old Woman's table with medicines and injects him. The visitor opens his eyes./

 

Are you better?

 

VISITOR.        Yes, thank you. Sorry. It was not worth troubling you.

 

MAN.  What's happened?

 

VISITOR.        It's nothing. Asthma, radiculitis, liver.The fifth floor, not for the first time. The elevator does not work, the heart either. Anyway, thank you very much. /Rises up and shakes hands with the Man./

 

MAN.  Who are you?

 

VISITOR.        A call. Seven o'clock. Number twenty two.

 

MAN.  /Surprised/. So you are the doctor!

 

DOCTOR.       I don't look like a doctor? Your check, please.

 

/The Man digs in his pockets and gets out a paper./

 

That's OK. Peter...What is your family name?

 

MAN.  Peter. They said, in the clinic, that the main thing is to pay beforehand, and as to my name, I may call myself as I want.

 

DOCTOR.       Well, let it be Peter. For me it really doesn't make any difference.

 

/Staggering, he snatches at the edge of the table./

 

MAN. You feel bad again?

 

DOCTOR.       It's nothing. The pulse is ninety, blood pressure two hundreds, age - seventy. I'm all right. /Falls on the bed./

 

MAN   /With a pill and a glass of water/. A heart pill?

 

DOCTOR.       With a great pleasure. /Swallows the pill./ Merci. Let me take a breath, it's only five to seven now.

 

            /The Woman, now in a simple dress, dials again./

 

 

WOMAN.       You are sick of me, aren't you? No, he's not come yet. Do I love him? I don't know. We made our acquaintance only not long ago. But I do know one thing: I want to love him. To be loved too, but mainly - to love. I want to live for him. I'll surround him with such a care - I can't find words... I'll meet him on the evenings with his slippers in my teeth. You can't imagine how much I want to seem him now... Oh, sure he'll come. I know it exactly. /Replaces the receiver, but at once takes it again./ Listen, I haven't said the most important. I've changed the dress, took away the flowers and champagne, and now everything looks out dull and everyday. He can think that I didn't wait for him at all. And I myself don't look out... Maybe it's better to put on that dress...you know... the white one. The white - it's always beautiful. Yes? Thank you!

 

/Replaces the receiver, puts the flowers on the table again, takes a white dress out of the wardrobe and begins to change the clothes.

A couple enters - a man in dark glasses and a woman -his companion./

 

COMPANION.  Wait a little here.

 

MAN IN A DARK GLASSES.  Please, don't go away.

 

COMPANION.  Sit quietly, I'll come soon. /Escapes behind the screen./

 

/The Man in dark glasses sits down and becomes freezed in a strained pose./

 

DOCTOR.       /Lying on the bed/. Seven p.m. I'm listening to you.

 

MAN. I want...  I... You know...

 

DOCTOR        /Interrupting./   Wait, though. At first take out the phonendoscope out of my bag. Thank you. Now, take your shirt off please. Good. Bend forward to me. Very well. /Lying on the bed, listens to the patient's heart./ The cursed heart... Oh, not yours. Mine. With you everything's OK. As a matter of fact, where do you have a pain?

 

MAN. Nowhere.

DOCTOR        /Surprised, sits down./  How is it - "nowhere"? Why then have you called for a doctor, and for a good cash?

 

MAN. Now I'll try to explain you...

 

DOCTOR.       I needn't explanations. Tell me simply, do you have a pain or not?

 

MAN. "Simply"... If you knew...

 

DOCTOR.       /Interrupting./  Yes or no?

 

MAN. Yes.

 

DOCTOR.       Where namely?

 

MAN. It's my soul that bleeds..

 

DOCTOR.       You ought to say it before. /Stands up and closes his bag with a snap./ When you have soul pains you must call for a psychiatrist and not a therapeutist. Good bye. I'm in a hurry.

 

MAN. You're kidding! I waited for your visit so much... You will stay with me, won't you?

 

DOCTOR.       Not a minute. /Decidedly goes to the door, but suddenly stops and puts his hand on his heart/.  Oh... /Sinks into a chair./

 

MAN. A pill more?

 

DOCTOR.       I should prefer a glass of cognac.

 

MAN.  A moment...                

 

/Takes out a bottle and fills a glass in.

The Man in dark glasses makes a few restless movements, then stands up as if he is going to go, but sits down again./

 

DOCTOR.       /Having drunk his cognac/.  Five stars. Forty six degrees. I'm twenty again. Merci and bye-bye.

 

MAN. You still want to leave me?

 

DOCTOR.       Sure.

 

MAN.  /Bars his way./  I don't let you go.

DOCTOR.       It's interesting how will you do it.

 

MAN. According to the rules of your clinic, a doctor's visit must endure not less than thirty minutes if the patient demands it. I found it out specially. If you go out now, I'll lodge a complaint.

 

DOCTOR.       /Sits down with a sigh./ Well, unbosom yourself. /Looks at his watch./

 

MAN.  /After a while/. Is it possible to tell about everything that torments you for a quarter of an hour?

 

DOCTOR.       Don't tell everything. Only the main thing.

 

MAN. The main thing... Doctor, the main thing is that everything became disgusting to me.

 

DOCTOR.       What namely?

 

MAN. Everything. Streets, shops, people, offices, my dependance and defenseless. I can't watch TV, don't turn in radio, don't read papers...

 

DOCTOR.       Well, what then?

 

MAN.  It doesn't surprise you?

 

DOCTOR.       No.

 

MAN.  And doesn't awaken your compassion?

 

DOCTOR.       Do you want me to prescribe you a sedative?

 

MAN.  I know what you mean: strain, stress, tension, neurosis and other medical gossip. But I assure you: I'm quite healthy.

 

DOCTOR.       Then what do you want from me?

 

MAN.  A sympathy.

 

DOCTOR.       Is it also a part of the clinic rules?

 

MAN. It's a part of the duty of any doctor.

 

DOCTOR.       Well, I sympathize you very much.  And now let's measure your pressure.

 

MAN.  /Impatiently/. What for?

DOCTOR.       It's my duty. You've studied our rules so well, that you should know that.

 

/Takes out the device from his bag and in spite of the man's protests measures its blood pressure./

 

WOMAN.       /On the phone/.   Laura, he has not come. Something is happened, I'm sure... Yes, I'm in the white, bur it's not important. If only he would come... /Replaces the receiver and walks nervously along the room , machinally taking things from  one place to another./

 

DOCTOR        /Taking out his device/. The pressure is normal. I say, an excellent pressure. I envy you devilishly.

 

MAN.  And I told you it was useless to measure it.

 

DOCTOR.       Everybody of us makes heaps of useless things.

 

MAN.  Now, when all the formal procedures are done, can you hear me out at last?

 

DOCTOR.       And what about the laboratory or a specialist? I can assign you if you want.

 

/The Man makes an impatient gesture./

 

I tell it because I'll have no time, when the half an hour is up..

 

MAN.  Doctor, can you speak to me as a human being to a human being?  After all, I paid money for it!

 

DOCTOR.       /Closes his bag quietly/.   I'm listening. /Looks at his watch./ Well, why are you silent?.

 

MAN.  Your indifference is killing me.

 

DOCTOR.       /After a pause./  There are four minutes more. If you have what to tell, hurry up.

 

MAN.  /Nervously/. I can' concentrate myself... Lost a thread...

 

DOCTOR.       You've finished or rather begun with that everything's disgusting for you..

 

MAN.  Ah, yes... That's right... It's the main thing. Everything's disgusting. False smiles, impeccable costumes, career, money... Everything's odious.

DOCTOR.       Everything?.

 

MAN.  Everything.

 

DOCTOR.       Nonsense. I don't believe you..

 

MAN.  I swear.

 

DOCTOR.       Tell me, the odor of a pine forest is disgusting for you?

 

MAN.  A forest? Of course not.

 

DOCTOR.       The taste of a good coffee?

 

MAN.  No.

 

DOCTOR.       Maybe beautiful women are disgusting for you? Field flowers? Mozart's tunes? Aha, you are silent. Then why on the earth have you decided that you are disappointed in everything in the world?.

 

MAN.  Well, let it be not in everything. In many things. It's not the point.

 

DOCTOR.       No, it isn't. Do you want I'll tell you, what's the point?.

 

MAN.  I'm trying to get it from you for a good half an hour.

 

DOCTOR.       /Looking at the watch./ Which, by the way, are up. /Stands up./ I'm going..

 

MAN.  No, you can't go like this!

 

DOCTOR.       Dear Peter, your time expired. I'm so sorry. /Takes his bag./

 

MAN.  /Bars his way/. All the same you will have to suffer my presence a little longer.

 

DOCTOR.       Be prudent. The next patient is waiting for me.

 

MAN.  But the next patient - it's me.

 

DOCTOR.       /Looking at his note-book./ Time?

 

MAN.  Seven and thirty.

 

DOCTOR.       Name?

MAN.  Paul.

 

DOCTOR.       Why Paul when you're Peter?  Well, it makes no difference though. Your check please.

 

MAN.  Here you are. Number twenty three.

 

DOCTOR.       /Looking at his note-book./ Right. Where do you have a pain?

 

MAN.  Nowhere. I...

 

DOCTOR.       Take you shirt off please. I'll listen to your heart.

 

MAN.  But you've done it just now.

 

DOCTOR.       Dear Paul, that was a man number twenty two and now it's number twenty three.

 

MAN.  But both of them are...

 

DOCTOR.       Breathe. /Listens to his heart through the phonendoscope/.

 

WOMAN.       /On the phone./ He's not come. I can't imagine, what might happen... Maybe I've better to run to look for him?... Yes, I know that I must do nothing. Yes, I know that not to wait is the best. But I can't any more... Sorry, I worry you all the time... I'll try to pull myself together. /Replaces the receiver and continues to sit on the bed in a desperate pose./

 

DOCTOR.       And now let's see what's your pressure.

 

MAN.  Doctor, stop playing the fool. We're losing our time again.

 

DOCTOR.       Don't distract me please. /Measures the pressure./

 

The paralyzed Old Woman tries without success to get the phial with a medicine. The Man in dark glasses moves restlessly on his chair.

           

An attractive young man enters with a bottle of a fine vine and a bouquet./

 

GUEST.           May I come in?

 

WOMAN.       /She does not believe her eyes./ You?!

 

GUEST.           You didn't wait for me? I promised to come... Have you forgot?

 

WOMAN.       O no, sure!.. I waited so much!.. That is... I didn't wait but... I mean... Come in please! Why are you standing here?

 

GUEST.           /Presenting the vine and flowers./ It's for you.

 

WOMAN.       Really? It's so nice of you. What a marvelous bouquet!

 

GUEST.           You look great in this white dress. A real bride! By the way, I want to ask you... Are you alone?

 

WOMAN.       Yes.

 

GUEST.           I mean, you live alone?

 

WOMAN.       Yes.

 

GUEST.           Very nice and cozy. These curtains are a real chick. You have a remarkable taste.

 

WOMAN.       I... I'll prepare a tea.

 

GUEST.           Let me help you.

 

/They come to the oven. The Woman fills the tea-kettle, the Guest opens the bottle, helps to switch the gas etc./

 

DOCTOR.       /Taking out his device/. The pressure is normal. I say, an excellent pressure. I envy you devilishly.

 

MAN.  Doctor, for God's sake, stop this. There is a human being before you and he wants to hear human words from you. You have just promised to tell me...

 

DOCTOR.       /Interrupting./ Yes, yes, I remember. But at first look what do you look like. Unshaved, unbrushed, and God knows how dressed creature. And your habitation? It's like a nest of a spider, that himself got caught in his web. A coffin is much more comfortable. /Moves to the oven./ I'm sure, you boil your tea in a fish-pot and heat your cutlets right on the fire, having hooked them on a rusty fork. Do you have cutlets though? /Opens the refrigerator./ Of course, it's empty. Dear Paul, you may not sink so low. /Goes on to examine the apartment./

 

WOMAN.       Would you be so kind as to take a lemon out of the refrigerator?

 

GUEST.           /Opens the refrigerator/.  Oh, how many delicious things are here! You're a magnificent housewife!

 

WOMAN.       Oh, I don't know... I simply got into the way that there must be everything necessary at home. /She wants to take the lemon, but the Guest holds her hand. The Woman drops her eyes./ I must slice the lemon.

 

GUEST.           I'll do it myself.

 

WOMAN.       /Softly frees her hand/. Then I'll lay the table.

 

/The Woman covers a part of the table with a snow-white clothe and puts on it flowers, crystal glasses, champagne etc.

The Man, on the other end of the table, spreads a newspaper, and puts on it the opened bottle of cognac, a piece of bread and a sausage./

 

THE MAN IN DARK GLASSES.       /Restlessly./ Haven't you come yet?

/Waits in vain for an answer./  You had just said you would soon come back... Why don't you answer?

 

MAN.  So you consider I'm sinking down. But I'm rising up. The question is what's up and what's down. And I too set myself your absurd and ridiculous objects, the main of which is to be esteemed and admired. By women, by superiors, by a man in the street. And I too had you cherished dreams - money, fame, power. And I too had your petty pains. Now I've risen above it. Yes, I haven't been to the barber for a long time and I wear shabby shoes, but is it so important whether Albert Einstein shaved often and in what shoes Christ went to the Calvary?

 

DOCTOR.       And what do you aspire now?

 

MAN.  I try to live in a right way. As I want and must. Not to bend down, not to squander my gifts on trifles, not to dodge, not to give up.

 

DOCTOR.       And what? Does it succeed?

 

MAN.  Up to now I passed only half-way. I don't do mean actions, but don't do good things neither. I abandoned what I hated, but didn't find what is dear to me. I parted with people, which were strange to me, but didn't meet those, who could become near to me.

 

DOCTOR.       And this is a reason of your melancholy. You are lonely, my friend, but don't like the loneliness. Thus you've come to a situation, when you hire a paid interlocutor.

 

/The Woman and her Guest are sitting at the table too. The Guest opens the bottle./

 

MAN.  I don't keep to me: I need a friend.

 

DOCTOR.       A woman.

 

MAN.  Yes, a woman. But not anyone; the only one.

 

DOCTOR.       You seek an ideal?

 

MAN.  Not at all. Let her be with ledges and acute angles, but these ledges and hollows must correspond with my notches. I fear however it's an unreal wish.

 

DOCTOR.       You suppose, there is no soul kindred to you in the world?

 

MAN.  There is. But how to find it amongst millions? The more intricate is a lock, the more difficult to fit a key for it.

 

DOCTOR.       And what is the conclusion?

 

MAN.  The more complicated is our inner world, the more inevitable is the loneliness.

 

DOCTOR.       If you understand that your aim is hopeless, must you try to reach it?

 

MAN.  Let's drink.

 

WOMAN.       /With a glass of champagne in her hand./ What are we drinking for?

 

GUEST.           For our meeting.

 

WOMAN.       /Clinking glasses./ For our meeting.

 

GUEST.           Let all your desires be fulfilled.

 

WOMAN.       What to give you - a cake or a pie?

GUEST.           A piece of the pie. You just cooked it yourself. /Looks over the room../ And who lives in the next room?

 

WOMAN.       Nobody.

 

GUEST.           That's great. I mean, you are your own mistress. Aren't you bothered sometimes?

 

WOMAN.       Not only bothered; sometimes it's terrifying to live here alone.

 

GUEST.           What can you fear?

 

WOMAN.       Oh, I don't know... For instance, I can get ill, to call for help, and nobody will even hear.

 

GUEST.           Oh, dear, throw these thoughts out of your head. Let's better drink a glass more.

 

WOMAN.       I'm not accustomed to vine.

 

GUEST.           Sometimes we may allow something to ourselves. /Rises his glass./ For your beauty and charm.

 

/They drink./

 

Do you dance?

 

WOMAN.       A little.

 

GUEST.           Maybe to put a disk? Something low. But first another toast. For you. No-no, don't place your glass, bottom up! /The Woman drinks./ Well done!

 

/Music. The Woman and the Guest are dancing. The paralyzed Old Woman makes another attempt to get the phial, which rolled from her to an unattainable distance - two or three meters. She creeps down on the floor and tries to reach the medicine. Music still sounds./

 

MAN.  /With the glass in his hands./ Do you know what I'm thinking about? Maybe I'm really sinking. You say my pants aren't pressed and apartment is neglected. And what for to clean it? And for whom to shave?

 

DOCTOR.       For yourself.

 

MAN.  No, it's not serious. Whatever you would say, but everybody of us, even the most deep-rooted egoist lives for the others. We expect love and help from them and ourselves want to love and help. We need people in order to arouse in them pity, sympathy, admiration or horror. We can display our ego only among other human beings. Even a desperate scoundrel needs people - even if for to do them mean actions. And near to me - nobody. You understand this?

 

/The Old Woman continues her struggle for the phial./

 

DOCTOR.       I understand. I'm lonely too.

 

MAN.  No, you don't understand. You have a family, a wife...

 

DOCTOR.       A wife is the worst kind of the loneliness.

 

MAN.  And children?

 

DOCTOR.       When you are over seventy, you begin to doubt whether your children or anybody else in the world need you. Imagine, I'll come out here and maybe fall down somewhere in the stairs... And, you think, anybody will notice my absence?

 

MAN.  If so, wouldn't it be better to stop this?

 

DOCTOR.       What "this"?

 

MAN.  Well, to walk on the stairs.

 

DOCTOR.       And what then? /After a pause./ No, it will be better for me to go walking... But go on. You had paid your money not for to listen to me.

 

MAN.  Doctor, why wouldn't you call me once again? Some day, simply so, without a reason...

 

DOCTOR.       I would do it with a great pleasure. But I'm so busy. From eight to three, from four till eight... The cursed numbers...

 

MAN.  Yes, I see.

 

DOCTOR.       What can we do with this?

 

 

 

MAN.  I hated the loneliness before because I wanted something for me. Care, attention, love. I considered - don't know why - that I have right to it. Now I have risen so that I want to be useful myself. I want to be something for somebody. But nobody needs me. Nobody.

 

/The Old Woman leaves her endeavors to get the medicine and makes now desperate but unsuccessful efforts to rise back into her armchair. And the music still sounds./

 

MAN.  There must be somewhere somebody, who needs me, who would inspire a sense in my empty life. But where's he, this "somebody", where? I'm going off my head when I think about it. All the days long I'm sitting on the bed, reel from side to side as a praying Turk and repeat: "Where? Where? Where?"...

 

THE MAN IN DARK GLASSES. /Restless./ Where am I? /Stands up./

Have you not yet come? /No answer./ Is anybody here? /Tries to make a few steps, but runs against the table, stops and stretches his hands pleading./

I don't see, help me. Do you understand, what does it mean not to see? /The light on the scene dies out. The blind man's voice sounds in a complete darkness./

I ask you - if anybody's here - do you understand what's the darkness and uncertainty? You may ask, why I'm speaking if there is nobody here. But for me there is always nobody and nothing around. Maybe I'm mistaken? /After a pause./ Tell me - do you exist?

 

/No answer. The blind man makes his way to his place, running against the furniture. With the first word of the Woman the light is up again./

 

WOMAN.       /Stops dancing./ I feel giddy. Maybe we'll return to the table?

 

GUEST.           /He continues to embrace the Woman./ No. To be at the table all the time - it's...monotonous. I like more to stay as it is, to feel you to be so close...

 

WOMAN.       /Tries to free herself./ Let's better to speak about something.

 

GUEST.           We had already a good talk. I suppose, we'll find another occupation.

 

WOMAN.       I fear, you've drunk too much.

 

GUEST.           I'm absolutely sober.

 

WOMAN.       Please, lets return to the table.

 

GUEST.           /With a short laugh./ I prefer another kind of the furniture. /Drags the stunned woman to the bed./

 

WOMAN.       What are you doing? Let me go!

 

GUEST.           /Rudely./ Stop put on airs. We've played enough the rules of propriety. Don't make of yourself a Vestal virgin.

 

WOMAN.       /Tears herself away./ Oh, now I see what you arew. Go away!

 

GUEST.           Firstly I'll get what I've come for, and then I'll go.

 

WOMAN.       /Desperate./ And what have you come for?

 

GUEST.           You know it yourself, you're not a baby. /Comes near to her./

 

WOMAN.       Oh no, don't. I implore you.

 

GUEST.           Then why did you call me? /Seizes her hand./

 

WOMAN.       Don't touch me! I'll cry!

 

GUEST.           Who will hear? /Tears her dress away./

 

WOMAN.       Help! Help me whoever is here!

 

/The Man and the Doctor are drinking melancholically their cognac. The Old Woman is helplessly laying on the floor at a distance of a few centimeters from the phial. The Blind Man makes a few steps ahead. With his first word the scene drops in a darkness./

 

THE BLIND MAN.     Why have you done it? /Silence./ Why have you left me alone? /The sound of his unsure, stumbling steps is heard./ Where's a way out? If there's here anybody, help! Is it so difficult - to show the way out? Or you don't see each other neither? But whether you are deaf? Dumb? Or you don't exist at all? /Pause./ Tell me - do you exist?

 

/The Blind Man falls silent. When the light is up again, there are neither the Blind Man, nor the Doctor, nor the Guest. The Man is sitting alone on his place at the table with a glass in his hand. The Old Woman wallows on the floor. The Woman lies in the bed.

          The telephone call. The Woman takes the receiver. Her voice is colorless and empty./

 

WOMAN.       Yes. Of course it's me. Nothing's happened. It only seems to you. No. He hasn't come. I say: a man, whom I waited for, hasn't come. Don't know. I think never.

 

/While the Woman speaks the Man finishes his glass, takes off his shirt and pants, and climbs into the bed, but does not lie down. He is sitting, reeling from side to side mechanically and repeating the same word./

 

WOMAN.       You must not console me. I'm absolutely quiet. I learned a good lesson long ago that nobody wants and never will want me. I must face the truth. Maybe, there is He somewhere in the world, but I'll never meet him. You don't agree? Then answer only one simple question: where's he? Where?

 

MAN. /Reeling/. Where?.. Where?.. Where?..

 

/And in the "Le printemps eternel" the young man and the girl, full of life and love are forever fused in an inseparable unity of the bodies and souls./

 

 

 

 

THE END