Roses: Four One-Act Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
Even that would be dangerous. If some one happened to be looking this way and saw the movement----
Julia (_going to the door_).
One has to do it slowly, ve-ry slow-ly-- (_She starts, uttering a low cry of fear, and retreats to the foreground, her arms outstretched as if she were warding off a ghost._)
Pierre.
What's the matter?
Julia.
s.h.!.+ s.h.!.+ (_Approaches him cautiously, then softly._) There's a man--out there.
Pierre.
Where?
Julia.
Hus.h.!.+ Come here you can see it against the light. (_They cautiously change places_. Pierre _utters a low shriek, then_ Julia, _softly, despairingly_) Pierre!
Pierre.
It must be the gardener.
Julia.
It's not--the--gardener.
Pierre.
Who is it then?
Julia.
Creep around--and lock--the gla.s.s door.
Pierre (_weak from fright_).
I can't.
Julia.
Then I will. (_She has taken but a few steps toward the door when the streaks of light again become visible._) He's gone now!
Pierre.
How--gone?
Julia.
There--there--nothing----
Pierre.
Seize the opportunity--and go.
Julia.
Where?
Pierre.
To the gardener's house--quick--before he comes back.
Julia.
In broad daylight--half dressed as I am?
Pierre.
Throw on a wrap--anything--hurry! (_Knocking at the door on the left.
They both stand rooted to the spot. The knocking is repeated. Then_ Pierre, _in a choking voice_) Come in.
(Wittich _enters. He is a large, burly man of about forty, whose whole appearance betrays neglect; his sandy-coloured hair is pushed back from his forehead in damp strands; his beard is straggling and unkempt; his face is haggard and perspiring, his eyes l.u.s.treless. He staggers heavily in walking. He speaks in a stammering, hesitating voice; he gives the impression, in sum, of a man who is deathly ill, but is making an intense effort to hold himself together._)
Wittich.
I beg your pardon if I am disturbing you. (_Both stare at him without venturing to move._)
Pierre (_taking heart_).
Oh--p-p-please----
Wittich.
I see you were about to make coffee. Really--I don't want to----
Pierre (_stammering_).
P-p-please--th-there's no--hurry----
Wittich.
Well, then we may as well--settle--our affair--first. (Julia, _who has been standing quite still, panting, utters a low groan. At the sound of her voice_, Wittich _catches his breath as if suffocating, then sinks into one of the chairs at the left and stares vacantly at the floor._)
Pierre (_edging up to_ Julia _then softly_).
Can you understand this?
