He Who Gets Slapped, Leonid Andreyev [great novels to read .txt] 📗

epub:type="z3998:persona">Briquet Yelling. No! Don’t! You can’t look⁠—damned profession! Don’t go. You will scorch her⁠—every pair of eyes that looks at her⁠—at her lions⁠—no, no. It is impossible⁠—it is a sacrilege. I ran away.⁠ ⁠… He, they will tear her⁠— He Tries to be cheerful. Keep cool, Papa Briquet⁠—I had no idea you were such a coward. You ought to be ashamed. Have a drink. Mancini, give him some wine. Briquet I don’t want any. Heavens, if it were only over⁠—All listen. I have seen many things in my life, but this.⁠ ⁠… Oh, she is crazy. All still listen. Suddenly the silence breaks, like a huge stone wall crashing. There is a thunder of applause, mixed with shouts, music, wild screams⁠—half bestial, half human. The men give way, relieved. Briquet sinks to a seat. Mancini Nervous. You see⁠—you see⁠—you old fool! Briquet Sobs and laughs. I am not going to allow it any more! He Here she is! Zinida walks in, alone. She looks like a drunken bacchante, or like a mad woman. Her hair falls over her shoulders dishevelled, one shoulder is uncovered. She walks unseeing, though her eyes glow. She is like the living statue of a mad Victory. Behind her comes an actor, very pale, then two clowns, and a little later Consuelo and Bezano. All look at Zinida fearfully, as if they were afraid of a touch of her hand, or her great eyes. Briquet Shouting. You are crazy⁠—you’re a mad woman! Zinida I? No. Did you see? Did you see? Well? She stands smiling, with the expression of a mad Victory. Tilly Plaintively. Cut it out, Zinida. Go to the devil! Zinida You saw, too! And!⁠ ⁠… what⁠— Briquet Come home⁠—come home. To the others. You can do what you like here. Zinida, come home. Polly You can’t go, Papa. There’s still your number. Zinida Her eyes meet those of Bezano. Ah! Bezano. Laughs long and happily. Bezano! Alfred! Did you see? My lions do love me! Bezano, without answering, leaves the stage. Zinida seems to wither and grow dim, as a light being extinguished. Her smile fades, her eyes and face grow pale. Briquet anxiously bends over her. Briquet In a slow voice. A chair! Zinida sits. Her head drops on her shoulder, her arms fall, she begins to shiver and tremble. Someone calls, “Cognac”⁠—an actor runs to get it. Briquet Helpless. What is the matter, Zinida darling? Mancini Running about. She must quiet down. Get out, get out⁠—vagabonds! I’ll fix everything, Papa Briquet. The wrap⁠—where’s the wrap? She’s cold. A clown hands it to him; they cover her. Tilly Timidly. Wouldn’t you like some moosic? Mancini Giving her some cognac. Drink, Duchess, drink! Drink it all⁠—that’s it. Zinida drinks it like water, evidently not noticing the taste. She shivers. The clowns disappear one by one. Consuelo, with a sudden flexible movement, falls on her knees before Zinida and kisses her hands, warming them between her own. Consuelo Dear, dear, you are cold! Poor little hands, dear good one, beloved one⁠— Zinida Pushes her away, gently. Ho⁠—home. It will soon be over. It’s nothing⁠ ⁠… I am ver⁠—very⁠ ⁠… home.⁠ ⁠… You stay here, Briquet⁠—you must. I’m all right. Consuelo You are cold? Here is my shawl. Zinida No⁠—let me.⁠ ⁠… Consuelo gets up, and moves aside. Briquet And it’s all because of your books, Zinida⁠—your mythology. Now tell me, why do you want those beasts to love you? Beasts! Do you understand, He? You too, you’re from that world. She’ll listen more to you. Explain it to her. Whom can those beasts love? Those hairy monsters, with diabolic eyes? He Genially. I believe⁠—only their equals. You are right, Papa Briquet⁠—there must be the same race. Briquet Of course, and this is all nonsense⁠—literature. Explain it to her, He. He Takes on a meditative air. Yes, you are right, Briquet. Briquet You see, dear, silly woman⁠—everybody agrees.⁠ ⁠… Mancini Oh! Briquet, you make me sick; you are an absolute despot, an Asiatic. Zinida With the shadow of a smile, gives her hand to be kissed. Calm yourself, Louis. It is over⁠—I am going home. She stands up, shaking, still chilled. Briquet But how? alone, dear? Mancini What! fool! Did you imagine that Count Mancini would leave a woman when she needed help? I shall take her home⁠—let your brutal heart be at rest⁠—I shall take her home. Thomas, run for an automobile. Don’t push me Briquet, you are as awkward as a unicorn⁠ ⁠… that’s the way, that’s the way⁠—They are holding her, guiding her slowly toward the door. Consuelo, her chin resting in her hand, is following them with her eyes. Unconsciously she assumes a somewhat affected pose. Mancini I’ll come back for you, child⁠—Only He and Consuelo are left on the stage. In the ring, music, shrieks, and laughter begin again. He Consuelo⁠— Consuelo Is that you, He, dear? He Where did you learn that pose? I have seen it only in marble. You look like Psyche. Consuelo I don’t know, He. She sighs and sits on the sofa, keeping in her pose the same artificiality and beauty. It’s all so sad here, today. He, are you sorry for Zinida? He What did she do? Consuelo I didn’t see. I had closed my eyes, and didn’t open them. Alfred says she is a wicked woman, but that isn’t true. She has such nice eyes, and what tiny cold hands⁠—as if she were dead. What does she do it for? Alfred says she should be audacious, beautiful, but quiet, otherwise what she does is only disgusting. It isn’t true, is it, He? He She loves Alfred. Consuelo Alfred? My Bezano? Shrugging her shoulders, and surprised. How does she love him? The same as everyone loves? He Yes⁠—as everyone loves⁠—or still more. Consuelo Bezano? Bezano? No⁠—it’s nonsense. Pause; silence. What a beautiful costume you have, He. You invented it yourself? He Jim helped me. Consuelo Jim is so nice! All clowns are nice. He I am wicked. Consuelo Laughs. You? You are the nicest of all. Oh, goodness! Three