(
He returns to his desk and sits, ready to carry on with the recording.
)
ANA: Do you really think you’re mature and rational, Mark Griffin? Now that you’re writing that travel book about the journeys of Mrs Kathie Kennety through the Far East and Black Africa – the book she supplies the ideas for while paying you to put them into words – can you honestly keep criticizing middle-class women with a clear conscience, Mark Griffin?
(
She leaves him and moves towards
JUAN.
A few bars of Arab music are heard
.)
KATHIE: Then I went to the old part of Cairo, and saw a little church where the Virgin Mary had taken refuge with the infant Jesus during the flight into Egypt. It was very beautiful.
SANTIAGO: To my joy and delight, history and religion intermingle in that kaleidoscopic maze of eternal alleyways
which constitutes the old quarter of Cairo. And this secluded chapel mellowed by time, which looms before me so gracefully and discreetly through clouds of dust – what could it be? Is it the sanctuary where Mary and the baby Jesus sheltered on their flight into Egypt?
KATHIE: And then I visited another little church, Jewish, I think, where Abraham was once supposed to have been.
SANTIAGO: (
Dictating
) Why do the walls of this timeless synagogue exude that other-worldliness which thrills me to the marrow? Because upon its stones the feet of the Patriarch Abraham once left their sacred imprint.
KATHIE: And finally I stopped at a shop which sold perfume.
SANTIAGO: And as in Egypt the material and the spiritual worlds are inseparable, I find myself almost immediately out in the dazzling morning sunlight on the threshhold of a perfumery.
KATHIE: It was late afternoon actually.
SANTIAGO: (
Correcting
) I find myself almost immediately in the crimson evening twilight on the threshhold of a perfumery.
KATHIE: There were some tourists there too. The perfume-seller explained in his disreputable English that the shop was very old, and he gave us some samples to try. He would keep on staring at me and in the end I became quite nervous.
SANTIAGO: The perfume-seller is tall and slim, with jet-black eyes and gleaming teeth. His gaze never leaves me, as he explains in French, the language of seduction, that the perfumery is as ancient as the earliest Egyptian mosques and that its craftsmen manufacture essences, the secret of which has been handed down from father to son throughout the centuries. He makes us sample exotic elixirs whose fragrance lasts for years on the skin. And as he talks, those lewd, hungry, lascivious eyes of his remain steadily fixed upon me.
(
As he has been talking,
SANTIAGO
has got up and has now taken on the guise of a passionate young man. He is very close to
KATHIE.)
KATHIE: Victor! What are you doing here? What do you want?
SANTIAGO: To run away with you, to elope with you. Yes, Pussikins. It’s all arranged. I’ve got hold of a van, I’ve persuaded that little priest in Chincheros, and they’ve lent me a house in the country.
KATHIE: Are you serious, Victor?
SANTIAGO: Don’t you think it’s a romantic idea? Wouldn’t it be romantic to run away and get married in secret to the man you love despite your parents’ wishes? Wouldn’t it be romantic to ditch that imbecile they’re always trying to foist on you? Aren’t you always telling me what a romantic girl you are?
KATHIE: You’ve got it all wrong. My parents have nothing to do with my decision to marry Johnny. They’re not forcing me to marry him, nobody is. I’m marrying him because I want to. Because … I love him.
SANTIAGO: That’s not true. You’re marrying Johnny because your family have been ramming him down your throat for the last I don’t know how long so you’ll forget about me. You’re not in love with that moron, don’t try and pretend you are.
KATHIE: You mustn’t say things like that about Johnny. He’s my fiancé and he’s going to be my husband.
SANTIAGO: (
Trying to kiss her
) But you’re in love with me, Pussikins. Haven’t you told me so countless times? Do you want me to remind you about all those things you used to say to me in your letters? You’re making a big mistake, my love. Marry Johnny and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
KATHIE: I’ll never regret it, I’m going to be very happy with Johnny. So stop following me around, stop ringing me up, and leave me alone. Just accept the fact once and for all: I’m going to marry Johnny.
SANTIAGO: I’ll never accept it. I won’t give up till the very last moment: not till you’re walking down the aisle together.
KATHIE: Then you’re going to be wasting your time miserably.
SANTIAGO: (
Returning to his place of work and his tape-recorder
,
becoming himself again
) It’s just that if I ever manage to convince myself there’s no more hope, that there’s no …
KATHIE: (
To an invisible Victor
) What will you do? Will you kill me? Will you kill Johnny?
SANTIAGO: You know it doesn’t sound very Egyptian, señora. Instead of Johnny, you need an Arab name. What about Ahmed? Or Gamul? Don’t you like Gamul, the prurient perfume-seller, or Ahmed, the amorous parfumier.
KATHIE: Oh, Johnny’s got nothing to do with my book. My mind was wandering. I was thinking of when I was young.
SANTIAGO: Stay young please, señora.
KATHIE: If you really meant that, you’d call me Kathie.
SANTIAGO: I’m sorry. From now on I’ll call you Kathie, I promise.
KATHIE: I was thinking of my admirers. I had masses of them: Kike, Bepo, Harry, Gordo Rivarola … In those days, I was what was called a good match.
SANTIAGO: I know. I knew you, though you didn’t know me. In fact everybody knew you. From the social columns, from society magazines.
KATHIE: What were you like in those days?
SANTIAGO: (
Dreamily
) Me? An idealist, a romantic. I dreamt I was going to be another Victor Hugo, I was going to dedicate my life to poetry, politics, art. Something important, where I could make my mark in society. I wanted to fill my life with grand gestures.
JUAN: (
Moving closer
) Can we talk for a moment, Kathie? It’s about … Victor.
KATHIE: I’ve absolutely nothing to say about Victor. I don’t want to talk about him. Either now or ever, with you or anyone else for that matter. I haven’t seen him since we got married, so you needn’t start making jealous scenes about him now.
(SANTIAGO
has left his place of work, and is now beside them. He seems overcome with grief
.)
SANTIAGO: So you married that clown after all, Pussikins. You’re not the romantic girl you led me to believe you were in your letters.
JUAN: (
Uncomfortably
) I know you haven’t seen him since we got married. And I’m not going to make any jealous
scenes about him either. Have I ever done that? I trust you implicitly, my love. It’s just that … he came to see me.
(
Turning towards
SANTIAGO
in surprise
) You? But what a surprise, Victor! Come in, come in. Well, where did you spring from all of a sudden?
KATHIE: (
Aside; transfixed with fear
) Dear heavens! Victor! Victor! How could you have done such a thing! And all because of me, it was all my fault. You did do it because of me, didn’t you?
SANTIAGO: (
Offering
JUAN
his hand
) How are you, Johnny? You seem surprised to see me. Yes, I suppose it’s understandable. I don’t want to take up your time, I imagine you’re very busy. I just came to bring you these letters.
KATHIE: Yes, I’m sure it was because of me that you did it. I’ll never forgive myself, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. How are you? Are you miserable? Are you happy? Have you at least found peace of mind?
JUAN: (
Leafing through the letters with increasing amazement
) What are these letters? Why, they’re love letters. Letters from my wife to you. What does this mean, Victor? Why have you brought them here?
KATHIE: (
Grief-stricken
) Even if you’re in the furthest corner of the earth, ensconced behind walls of solid stone, even if we never see each other again, I’ll always be beside you, I’ll always be with you, Victor.
SANTIAGO: As a sign of friendship, Johnny. Pussikins is your wife now. I’m sure neither you nor she would like those letters to get into the wrong hands. She wrote them to me when she was my girlfriend. When you read them you’ll see that our relationship was always pure and innocent. I’ve brought you them, so you can tear them up or keep them, or do whatever you like with them.
KATHIE: (
Very tenderly
) With you I awaken at dead of night, the sky all aglow with myriad stars, having scarcely slept four hours on your mattress of straw, in that stark dank cell with its granite walls.
JUAN: (
Becoming more and more bewildered
) Ah, so that’s the
reason … Look, I don’t quite know what to say to you. You’ve taken me rather by surprise. I … well, to tell you the truth, the fact is, I don’t really know what to say.
KATHIE: I meditate kneeling on icy stone floors in front of that skull which stares down upon us as much as to say, ‘I’m waiting for you.’ With you I weep for the evil men do, that has turned the world into a poisonous cesspool.
SANTIAGO: Well, you might at least thank me.
KATHIE: I scourge myself, and wear a hair shirt, and I try and try till my strength ebbs away, to atone for that boundless talent man has for harming himself and his fellow men.
JUAN: For these letters? Yes, of course, thank you very much. (
Looking at him mistrustfully
) But this must be some sort of a trick, Victor? Surely you’re pulling my leg?
KATHIE: With you I fast, in perpetual silence I live, barefoot I walk in the raw mid-winter and wear thick woollen garments in the searing summer heat. With you I till the soil with my own bare hands and with you I give succour and fodder to the rabbits.
SANTIAGO: No, Johnny, I’m not. I promise you.
KATHIE: With you I sing psalms to keep the world from splitting asunder and write eulogies to the wasp, the magnolia, the thistle, the fieldmouse, the laurel, the pollen and the ant.
JUAN: All right, I’m sorry. To tell you the truth, Victor, you’ve really rather thrown me. Well, I never! What a decent chap you are! Pussikins will be grateful to you as well. I’m sure she’d be quite upset if these letters were to go astray, now that she’s a married woman.
KATHIE: For you I’ve renounced the world of the serpent, the tawdry pomp, the anguish and the ulcers, for a life of slavery which to me is freedom, of martyrdom which is happiness, of death which is life.
SANTIAGO: That’s why I brought you them, I was thinking of her.
KATHIE: (
Anxious, tense
) And do you know why, Victor? Have you sensed it, have you guessed? Do you know?
JUAN: (
Confidentially
) You’ve taken a great weight off my mind,
Victor. I thought you felt bitter about me, I thought you hated me.
KATHIE: Because I love you. Yes, yes, yes, Victor. I love you! I love you! I’ve always loved you! Always, always, always.
SANTIAGO: Why? Because Pussikins married you? What a fantastic notion, Johnny. I felt a bit hurt to begin with but then I got used to the idea. Now I think it was the best thing all round that she should have married you.
KATHIE: (
Elated, ecstatic
) Yes, what you hear is true. Your Adèle loves you, she has always loved you, and she always will love you. My master, my mentor, my guru, my lord and king. Oh, Victor, Victor.
JUAN: Of course, of course, I always thought so too. You and Pussikins are two very different people, you’d never have got on.
KATHIE: (
Sad again
) With you, the very air I breathed has vanished, the light from my eyes, the voice from my throat, the fire from my blood.
SANTIAGO: (
Turning to an imaginary
KATHIE) You didn’t marry me because you thought I was after your money.
KATHIE: (
Still addressing the same phantom
) I didn’t marry you out of sheer stupidity.
JUAN: (
Still to
SANTIAGO) Whereas Kathie and I got on famously together.
KATHIE: Because I was a coward and an ignoramus, because I was blind and frivolous.
SANTIAGO: (
To the same imaginary
KATHIE) How disappointing, Pussikins. I thought you were more of an idealist, more of a dreamer, more intellectually honest, I never thought you were so calculating, I credited you with more openness. You’re not like Adèle Foucher, Adèle!
KATHIE: (
Mad with despair
) Forgive me! Forgive me!
JUAN: Look, Victor, now that we’ve got things straight, we must see each other again sometime. You must come round to the house and have a meal with us one of these days.