Drink or Drown: Part Four

     Wow, it's been so long since I posted Part Three of this one-act play by Castelnovo! You can read it, along with Parts One and Two, by clicking "Italian Plays in Translation" above. Here's a reminder of the cast of characters:

     BEATRICE GUIDOBALDI, niece and ward of
     ARIBERTO GUIDOBALDI, father of
     MARCELLO
     A SERVANT

     A summary of the action to this point: Ariberto's deceased uncle has stipulated in his will that his fortune be divided equally between his nephew, Ariberto, and his grand-niece, Beatrice, who is also Artiberto's ward. However, Beatrice will receive her inheritance only if she marries a Guidobaldi. Ariberto, therefore, has arranged that she marry his son Marcello, a seaman. However, Marcello has already promised himself to another woman. Marcello suggests to Beatrice that she marry his father instead.

BEATRICE has just run out of the room after telling ARIBERTO of MARCELLO'S suggestion.

 

SCENE 7

 

ARIBERTO     (For a few minutes, he is ecstatic. In the long pause, he reveals the strange battle of his emotions; by and by, he persuades himself and exclaims:)  "—provided she marry a Guidobaldi."  (Reflecting.)  But—Marcello? No! I cannot insist upon this with such certainty of making them both unhappy. Another man? Even worse! She would lose everything. And to whose advantage? Her good uncle's—her guardian's—mine! I, who have the sacred duty, in the face of the law and of the world, to protect her interests!  (Soberly.)  It is a matter of conscience. I cannot allow it! I cannot allow her to condemn herself to a life of isolation, without family—poor girl—without a husband who would wish for her all the good fortune she deserves! But not a featherbrain—that sort, God forbid, would perhaps cause her to pine away. Whereas a serious, settled man ...  (Approaches the mirror, but then turns back.)  It is a matter of conscience!  (Trying to convince himself.)  Oh, if Marcello had not declared that he did not want to ... if she ... I am a good father! but since Marcello does not want to ... nor does she ... (Little by little simplifying the facts.)  And then, what are forty years? To a fit man, forty is nothing! It is usually said that for a ... and then ... (He again approaches the mirror and looks at himself stealthily, afraid of being observed)  ... and then, Beatrice has said that I possess a certain carriage ... elegance ... (Appraising himself.)  Ppuh! Not at all bad! She mentioned my hair ... (Smooths his hair.)  There is a bit of greying ... but not very noticeable! She said as much to Marcello! It distresses her when I tug at my whiskers ... (Curls them.)  Not bad, not at all! And the notion did occur to my son. I had not thought of it!  (Brightening in his own contemplation.)  How impossible things seem—but then, they grow more and more possible—so that they are very nearly probably!  (Again at the mirror.)  What a lovely rose! How becoming! "It was the only thing you needed"! She said so herself. Heavens, how flushed I am! I no longer know where my head is!  (MARCELLO enters, sees him at the mirror, and halts in the doorway.)

 

SCENE 8

 

MARCELLO    (To himself.)  Looking at himself in the mirror! It's done, then!  (Entering.)  Papa!

ARIBERTO     (Moving quickly away from the mirror.)  Oh!

MARCELLO     Did I startle you? I beg your pardon. It is that I have urgent need to speak to you.

ARIBERTO     And I to you!  (Fondly.)  Marcello—you are a good son, a loyal man. I have discovered in you some excellent qualities. Come, let me embrace you!

MARCELLO     (Goes to him and allows himself to be embraced.)  It's done, it's done!  (Aloud.)  Dear Papa, your words are a great comfort to me. I thank you from the depths of my heart! And what is more, to prove to you that I am not ungrateful, I am come to tell you something.

ARIBERTO     (With hearty affection.)  Speak up, with no reticence! You know your father has always helped you when he could—even when you did not deserve it! Go on, speak up!

MARCELLO     (Gravely.)  I have considered.

ARIBERTO     What?

MARCELLO     Marrying my cousin.

ARIBERTO     (Startled.)  Oh! And?

MARCELLO     And ... I examined my conscience and said to myself: Papa is only acting in my interests. I am blind in both eyes! A wife such as Beatrice is a veritable little treasure!  (Enthusiastically.)  Her ingenuousness, her spirit, her sense, her heart—all these things are enough to turn the head of the most serious man in the world! After our interview, I have decided to—

ARIBERTO     (Anxiously.)  To—

MARCELLO     To satisfy you, dear Papa! And as soon as possible. I hope this time, you are truly happy with me!

ARIBERTO     (Very agitated.)  Well, naturally—of course!  (Hesitantly.)  But—I don't understand. Just a few moments ago, you—

MARCELLO     I changed my mind—and also myself. I wish to obey you.

ARIBERTO     (With much effort.)  Excellent!  (Hesitantly.)  But—Beatrice—after all you confessed to her—is she—?

MARCELLO     I shall say it was merely a scheme.

ARIBERTO     And if she does not believe you?

MARCELLO     You must help me to persuade her.  (Emphatically.)  She greatly esteems and—loves you. You need only to say the word!

ARIBERTO     (Searching for excuses.)  Marcello—what if both of you were to be unhappy in this marriage? For you do not love her! Did you, or did you not, tell me that you do not love her?

MARCELLO     Aye, I did tell you that. But you answered: "Once you come to know her, you shall adore her!"

ARIBERTO     Surely! I believed that. But then, in speaking with Beatrice, she considered the disparity in your ages. You are two years younger! and this, you must know, is a great misfortune. If you were, let us say—

MARCELLO     Ten ... fifteen years older ...

ARIBERTO     Precisely! Then we should not worry. But since you are not—

MARCELLO     I shall compensate for it with good judgement.

ARIBERTO     (Blurting out unintentionally.)  A fine judgement you have!

MARCELLO     I am your son. I shall follow your example.  (Softly, mischievously, glancing around.)  As for the other—the lady with the almond-shaped eyes—she shall console herself.

ARIBERTO      Easy enough to say so! And if she does not? I should not like to have any regrets, you understand.

MARCELLO     That is not my business. I am a good son—my father commands; I obey.

ARIBERTO     (At his wit's end.)  But I did not mean to force you! It is a matter of conscience! I absolutely do not want to be accomplice at any wrongdoing!

MARCELLO     (Pretending astonishment.)  What? Now it has become wrong? Papa! Either I deceive myself, or you are retracting your own words!

ARIBERTO     I? No, indeed! I am not retracting anything—I am merely reconsidering.

MARCELLO     Reconsidering! I am dumbstruck! You, who at first found everything so simple? You, who just moments ago, shouted, "Either we drink, or we drown"? To which I responded: "That other lady shall die of a broken heart." And you: "Rubbish! Youthful whims! Heed you father—for he has the experience of forty-one years!"

ARIBERTO     (Interrupting.)  I believe I said forty years.

MARCELLO     "Heed your father, with his grey hair and wrinkles!"

ARIBERTO     (Disconcerted.)  Leave my hair and wrinkles out of this! I only mentioned them to say something.

MARCELLO     and now, I come here and say to you: "Here I am!" You, for some strange reason to which I am not privy, have had a change of heart!

ARIBERTO     That is not true!

MARCELLO     You are confused!

ARIBERTO     I, confused?

MARCELLO     Aye. You very nearly make me suspect—

ARIBERTO     What?  (To himself.) I'm perspiring!  (Aloud.)  Suspect what?

MARCELLO     (Intentionally hesitating.)  That you—pardon me saying so—that you are acting in your own best interests?

ARIBERTO     (At the peak of his confusion and embarrassment.)  I? Well—that is—I mean to say—I— Oh, dash it, it is not true! Even if it were—

MARCELLO     (With wonderment.)  If it were! Did you say, "if it were"?  (As if scandalized.)  Who'd have thought it? The father is the son's rival! Oh, if the world only knew!

ARIBERTO     Don't shout so! Quiet! You are mad. I said nothing of the kind. You are but imagining—it is not true!

MARCELLO     It is too late, Papa, too late! You have betrayed yourself!  (Aside.)  Now to fan the flame!  (Aloud.)  Listen, Papa—a son is always a son. He owes his father respect, obedience—and, in some cases—enough, let us forget it! But in this particular case, I tell you loud and clear:  (Loudly and resolutely.)  My cousin belongs to me! It was you gave her to me, and woe to whomever may try to take her from me!

ARIBERTO     (Confused, bewildered.)  Why, yes, yes! Your cousin belongs to you. If you want her, marry her—and may God bless you both!  (Very distressed, he paces up and down the room.)

MARCELLO     Amen!  (Hurrying to the door.)  Cousin! Cousin!

ARIBERTO     (Also hurrying to the door.)  Beatrice! Beatrice!

 

FINALE

 

BEATRICE     (Entering quickly.)  Here I am! What is it?

ARIBERTO     (With effort.)  Marcello has confirmed what I myself told you—and has finally asked—

MARCELLO     (Interrupting in a tone much altered than before.)  One moment! Before tying the knot, I must beg a favour of my cousin.  (Takes from his pocket a telegram.)  Please read this telegram to my father. It has been burning a hole in my pocket these two hours. The reason I did not show him it earlier shall not be difficult to imagine. Listen carefully, Papa, for it concerns a very grave matter.  

BEATRICE     (Reading.)  "Landed safely at Genoa. Made good railway connection. Shall arrive in few hours."  (BEATRICE and ARIBERTO are puzzled. She continues reading.)  "Young Ariberto in excellent health"—young Ariberto?—"With heart full of trepidation and hope, I embrace you. Irma."  (Looks at MARCELLO).

ARIBERTO     What is this business? Who are these people?

MARCELLO     (Quietly.)  My wife and son.

BEATRICE     You are married?!

MARCELLO     (Half laughing, half serious.)  And a father.

ARIBERTO     (Half disbelieving, uncertain how to take it.)  It—it cannot be!  (Grasps MARCELLO's arm and looks into his eyes.)  Marcello?

MARCELLO     (Bowing his head.)  It is so!  (Straightens up with conviction.)  They are my wife and son. She is an honest woman who may enter the house of my ancestors with her head held high.  (Tenderly.)  And he is a blond angel, named Ariberto—for my father.

ARIBERTO     (Not quite convinced, but essentially happy.)  Married?

MARCELLO     These three years. And now you see that, already possessing a wife, I naturally cannot take another!

BEATRICE     But Cousin, why did you not say so immediately?

MARCELLO     (Jokingly.)  Ungrateful girl! She asks me why!  (Soberly.)  First of all, I had two difficult tasks to fulfill: to render myself disagreeable in such a way as to leave you with no regrets; and to obtain, in some way, absolution from my father. Needless to say, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I return home after five years under rather unusual conditions; and find the old home hearth diligently arranged with good pieces of log, and beneath the log, young, sweet wood—and beneath that, all the kindling and dry cones, which require but a spark to set the whole thing afire! So I light a match—and suddenly, the dry cones crackle to life—they spew forth smoke and sparks—then up, up, up! They illuminate the whole room with a lovely glowing flame, so cheering to see!  (To his father.)  Papa—if, in order to light that flame, I used a bit of friction and, for just a moment, acted disrespectfully towards you—and Cousin—if, for just a moment, I deceived you and pretended to be something I am not—I ask you both to forgive me.  (Little by little becoming moved.)  Forgive me! Let my own hands warm themselves by the flame that they themselves lit. Let us all gather round it! And allow also those two poor souls who shall arrive shortly, wearied by the stormy ocean crossing, numbed and shaking with fever, emotion and cold—  (Forcefully.)  —welcome those two poor people, who are the innocent cause of your happiness!

ARIBERTO     (After a pause.)  Beatrice?

BEATRICE     (In a resigned tone, but smiling at him.)  Uncle?

MARCELLO     (Returning to high spirits, shouting:)  Drink or drown!  (To his father.)  I use your words!  (Linking arms with both, one on either side of him.)  Usually it is the father who blesses the marriage of the son. This time, for the first time, it shall be the son who gives his blessing to the father.  (Hears a carriage outside.)  It is they!

ARIBERTO     (Looking at BEATRICE.)  They?  (Solemnly.)  Very well—five places round the hearth are ready and waiting.  (Offers his arm to BEATRICE, who understands and smiles.)  Let us go and greet our daughter and grandson!  (The curtain falls as they walk towards the door.)

 

FINIS   

Drink or Drown: Part Three

To read Parts One and Two, click "Italian Plays in Translation" above.

SCENE 5

(enter ARIBERTO.)

 

ARIBERTO     (To himself, on the threshold.)  They are laughing—a good sign!  (MARCELLO goes to meet him.)  Well?

MARCELLO     (Aside to ARIBERTO.)  It's done!

ARIBERTO     (Aside to MARCELLO.)  You have reached an understanding?

MARCELLO     Of course!

ARIBERTO     Good lad! I'm proud of you!  (To BEATRICE.)  Well, then?

BEATRICE     I must speak with you privately!

ARIBERTO     (Believing to understand.)  Ah! Quite right—after an interview with the son, it is only natural you should wish one with his father.  (A small smile to MARCELLO.)  Marcello, you may leave us for moment.

MARCELLO     (Glad to go.)  Very well.

ARIBERTO     Wait! First—come here.  (Affectionately.)  You are a good son. I feel the need to embrace you!  (Extends his arms.) 

MARCELLO     (Drawing back.)  Later, Father!  If we should begin straightaway, Beatrice may laugh!

ARIBERTO     These blessed men of the sea! That is how they are—bears on the surgace, lambs underneath.  (MARCELLO makes to go.)  What? You would go, without even—  (Motions meaningfully to BEATRICE.)  Come now, I believe even she—

MARCELLO     (Moves to embrace her.)  With all my heart!

BEATRICE     (Pulling away.)  That is enough for today.

MARCELLO     You see, she does not want to. As for me—

ARIBERTO     Be off with you; if she says 'enough', then that is enough! Do not insist.

MARCELLO     I am not insisting. But you have seen for yourself that she does not want to.  (Aside to ARIBERTO.)  I've done my part—now for you to do yours!  (To himself as he exits.)  If you can pull it off—bravo!  (Exits.)

 

SCENE 6

 

ARIBERTO     (Sits near BEATRICE and takes her hands affectionately.)  So—we are alone, my dear child. I believe I can guess what it is you wish to tell me! Oh, if you only knew the weight which has been lifted from my heart!

BEATRICE     (Placing herself directly face to face with him.)  Clever Uncle—very clever, indeed! This is going too far!

ARIBERTO     What do you mean? What is wrong?

BEATRICE     (Reproachfully.)  I shall not enter a suit against you—

ARIBERTO     (Surprised.)  A suit?

BEATRICE     No, I shall not; for I should like to believe that if you wished to deceive me, it was for a good cause. But—

ARIBERTO     But what?  (Believes he has guessed.)  Ah, I understand! Marcello has blurted out to you that he arrived last night, and that I—

BEATRICE     Last night? This too?  No, he did not tell me that. But he has told me ... other things.

ARIBERTO     (Beginning to feel uneasy.)  What is all this business?  (As before.)  Ah—now I have it! Before tying the knot, your betrothed naturally wished to make a general confession to you.

BEATRICE     Precisely!

ARIBERTO     (To himself.)  He should have kept it to himself!  (Aloud.)  He has been an upright young man—it is to be commended. (Jokingly.)  Puhh! It really is no great matter. I suppose he spoke of certain love letters he should burn—a lock of hair to toss out the window? Mere bygones; things of the past! Do not take them seriously. The gentleman on the verge of taking a wife may liken himself, more or less, to the painter who has finished a picture and is not content with it. He destroys the canvas, changes his palette—and where there once were clouds, flashes, and bolts of lightning, he now paints a beautiful sky studded with stars. And where there were once crashing waves and great, heaving billows, he now paints a sea calm and clear as a mirror, as sparkling as your own two heavenly eyes! The past—and what is still to come! He might have kept silence, yet he chose to speak—and you must appreciate his loyalty, smile upon the picture he paints of his future, which is also yours—and destroy the canvas of the past!

BEATRICE     Ah, yes; but once one begins destroying canvases, there may be no end to it. You do not know what he has told me.

ARIBERTO     (To himself.)  Heaven help us!  (Aloud, with growing interest.)  Speak up, speak up. What has he told you?

BEATRICE     That he loves another! That he has pledged his constancy to a woman who possesses the most beautiful eyes he has seen.

ARIBERTO     (To himself, biting his lip.)  Scoundrel! He has duped me!

BEATRICE    Come; justify yourself now if you can!

ARIBERTO     (Attempting to joke about it.)  Ha, ha, ha! And you believed it? Did you not see it was all a plan?

BEATRICE     (With conviction.)  Uncle! What good is this? It is useless to seek excuses. You have gone quite red. One lie is quite enough.  (Soberly.)  This marriage cannot take place.

ARIBERTO     (Shaken.)  Do not say that, even in jest! After all, Marcello's past indiscretion was but a brief flame.

BEATRICE     Save me from such a flame!

ARIBERTO     He is truly a good man, deep down. Once you are his wife, he shall adore you!  (Gravely.)  Do you believe that I should be capable of inventing a falsehood without having your happiness, your best interests, at heart?

BEATRICE     (A little maliciously.)  My happiness? Mine alone?

ARIBERTO     (Staring at her in astonishment.)  You would doubt it?
BEATRICE     (Dissembling.)  No, no! Rather, I acknowledge it. Only I should have preferred you told me the whole truth. You might have spared me some distress!
ARIBERTO     It is that—you see—I also believed—  (Angrily.)  That scoundrel Marcello! If you knew how it grieves me to see you unhappy!
BEATRICE     (Sadly.)  I thank you, but it is nothing! I, too, had built many castles in the air. I took much pleasure in the thought that we might be a family. But now—I understand too well that it is not possible.  (Under her breath.)  For you—you could not sacrifice your own life to be the guardian of a spinster niece. Your own aspirations, hopes—
ARIBERTO     (Puzzled.)  What hopes?
BEATRICE     (Continuing.)  Do not worry on my account! You know how I love the country. I live eight months of the year there; I shall add another four, to make up the whole year.  (Emotionally.)  It means that—if I cannot stay here as a daughter, nor as your ward—when you are no longer alone—when, as is natural, you have also chosen a wife—
ARIBERTO     I? What the devil are you saying?
BEATRICE     (Continuing in the same tone.)  Well—if my—aunt should have no objection, I shall come back to stay with you both. And, as I have done today, I shall adorn your parlor with flowers.  (Wipes away a tear, then smiles.)  I told you that I should never call you Papa—it seems my heart had a presentiment!
ARIBERTO     Beatrice! Do you know, you have become quite serious. Speaking in such a way—I've never heard you speak like this! Your laughter makes me want to weep in spite of myself ....  (Stomps his foot.)  I could give myself to the devil, when I think that that scoundrel had a treasure in his hand—and he tosses it away!
BEATRICE     (Pacifying him.)  Do not trouble yourself! It is much better this way. Marcello, to begin with, is two years younger than I. We women are already old at thirty. You men, at forty, are still in your prime.
ARIBERTO     (Smiling.)  Not quite ....
BEATRICE     It is so! And, supposing Marcello should, by and by, discover all those lovely things which you have attributed to me—do you really believe they would be enough for him? Unfortunately, those qualities do not last forever! And when my hair has become quite white—while his remains dark, like yours—do you think the silver of my locks would be compensated by the hidden gold of my virtue? Let us not delude ourselves!  (With conviction.)  Oh, if only Marcello were ten years older, then I could not say—! But, being two years younger—with those almond-shaped eyes locked in his heart—come now!
ARIBERTO     Oh, that will, that cursed pride in the family name!
BEATRICE     Guidobaldi? Well, it is a beautiful name. There is nothing more to say of that.
ARIBERTO     Yes—the name of honest people, if you will! But if there are only two men in the world of that name—my son and myself ....  (He seems suddenly struck by a vague idea; he looks at BEATRICE; he stands, then sits again; settles his cravat and smooths his hair. He is disturbed.)
BEATRICE    (Pointedly, preoccupied.)  Yes ... there are only two. Your son, and ....
ARIBERTO     (Promptly.)  Me.  (Pulls out his handkerchief and wipes his brow.)
BEATRICE     (Almost mechanically.)  ... and you!  (They stare at each other.)  Uncle—why do you stare at me so?
ARIBERTO     (Embarrassed.)  I? Nay, my dear; it is you who are staring at me!  (Rouses himself, gets up, passes in front of the mirror and glances furtively at his reflection, saying to himself.)  Ugh! This heat!  (Sits down again and fans himself with his handkerchief. BEATRICE does the same. He does not know how to resume the conversation.)  Tell me: you spoke before—of age. You said that, generally speaking, the happiest marriages are those in which the husband is—somewhat older?
BEATRICE     I have said so, and I believe it to be true.
ARIBERTO     (Elated.)  And ...  (Draws nearer to her.)  I beg your pardon; I cannot recall. How many years older did you say?
BEATRICE     I don't know—ten—fifteen—
ARIBERTO     (Hinting.)  Eighteen?
BEATRICE     (Flushing.)  Oh, yes—even eighteen!
ARIBERTO     (Even more elated.)  And then, if the man were well-preserved—if he had all his teeth—and his hair—?
BEATRICE     (A bit tongue-tied.)  Well, certainly ...  (Abruptly.)  Uncle, what is your age?
ARIBERTO     (Wiping his brow.)  My age? Calculate for yourself! I married at twenty, fathered a child at one-and-twenty, was widowed at five-and-twenty; my son is now twenty—so then—
BEATRICE     (Counting to herself.)  Nineteen!
ARIBERTO     How came you to that number?
BEATRICE     I mean to say—you are nineteen years older than I.
ARIBERTO     Beatrice—do you know, your way of arithmetic makes my head spin!
BEATRICE     Uncle—do you know what Marcello suggested to me earlier?
ARIBERTO     (Ill-humoredly.)  Something beastly, to be sure!
BEATRICE     (Coquettishly.)  No—he suggested I marry his father!
ARIBERTO     (Stunned.)  Did he?  (To himself.)  The idea! Poor boy!  (Aloud, with increasing emotion.)  Ah, did he, now? And you—?
BEATRICE     I? I laughed at first.
ARIBERTO     (Hanging on her every word.)  And—now?
BEATRICE     (Emotionally, her eyes shining.)  And now—I am no longer laughing.  (Having said this, she quickly runs out, leaving ARIBERTO bewildered.)

END SCENE

 

To be continued.





Drink or Drown: Part Two

To read Part One or view the Cast of Characters, click here. 

SCENE 3

Enter BEATRICE.

 

ARIBERTO     (Going to meet her and offering his arm.)  Beatrice—daughter—my dear child—take my arm! I shall present you to each other properly.  (Gestures to MARCELLO to come forward, who does so with a mixed air of the awkward and the careless.)  You cousin Marcello—  (BEATRICE's impression is not the most favorable: ARIBERTO takes note of this.)  You will pardon the disorder of his appearance; he arrived only an hour ago—

MARCELLO     (Interrupting.)  —from the Bosporus. It was the devil of a crossing, little cousin! More than once did I curse the moment I ever set sail!  (ARIBERTO tugs at MARCELLO's coat, whereupon MARCELLO corrects himself.)  It was so awfully long! I thought I should never see land.

ARIBERTO     (Aside to BEATRICE.)  He's flustered—doesn't know what he's saying.  (Aloud.)  He meant to pay you a compliment, and he has done so.

MARCELLO     (Smiling.)  A left-handed one.

BEATRICE     (Returning the smile.)  I thank you for the thought, cousin. We have not seen each other these ten years. While I was still at school, you were eager to go to sea.  (MARCELLO steals a glance at his father.)  I am happy to shake your hand at last.

MARCELLO     (Grinning.)  Let us shake, by God!

BEATRICE     Oh!  (Withdrawing her pained hand and saying laughingly to ARIBERTO.)  He has a very strong grip!

ARIBERTO     The emotion—affection—you understand.

MARCELLO     Did I hurt you? Most awfully sorry! We seamen are sturdily made. So long aboard ship, one loses one's sense of touch and taste.

ARIBERTO     What has taste to do with it?

MARCELLO    Allow me to explain. As to sense of touch, it has happened many times that with the pitching and rolling of the ship, I would seize a glass of cognac, and crack!—the glass would break like an eggshell. As to taste: having to down so many spirits and salted food spoiled the flavor of other food, whether it be lobster, caviar, mustard—even cayenne pepper!  (Smacks his lips.)  Bloody good stuff, cayenne pepper!

ARIBERTO     (Aside to MARCELLO.)  What are you saying, you scoundrel?

MARCELLO     (Aside.)  It is a test.

BEATRICE     (To ARIBERTO.)  He seems a bit—indiscreet.

ARIBERTO     (Softly.)  It is a test.

MARCELLO     (Heartily.)  Well, then! May I kiss you, or no?  (Approaching her.)

BEATRICE     (Drawing back.)  But, signor—

MARCELLO     What is this "signor"?  Are we not cousins? Are we not to be husband and wife?  (Insisting.)  Well, then!

BEATRICE     (Appealing to her guardian.)  Uncle!

ARIBERTO     (Aside to her.)  As I told you—the emotion—affection—

MARCELLO     (Aside to ARIBERTO.)  It is going well?

ARIBERTO     (Aside to MARCELLO.)  Control yourself!  (To BEATRICE.)  Come, make the poor lad happy.

BEATRICE     As you wish. I shall obey.  (Offers her forehead modestly to MARCELLO; he plants two long, resounding kisses, one on each cheek; she pulls away disconcertedly.)  Oh, dear!

ARIBERTO     (Enjoying it in spite of himself.)  Why ever was I afraid?  (To MARCELLO.)  Control yourself, young man! There'll be time enough for all that!

MARCELLO     (Aside to ARIBERTO.)  You're making me nervous. Leave us alone a moment. You shall be proud of me!

ARIBERTO     (Aloud to BEATRICE.)  Marcello has requested to speak with you alone. When you parted as children, you were sharing your toys. You meet now in anticipation of sharing a life. It is your right to speak privately!  (Smiling.)  And here is the only circumstance, perhaps, in which a father and guardian may, with impunity, leave two young people alone together—without the world murmuring disapproval!  (Aside to BEATRICE.)  Encourage him; he shall feel more at ease.

BEATRICE     (To herself.)  It would seem he needs no encouragement!

ARIBERTO     (To MARCELLO.)  I beg you—control yourself!  (To both.)  Endeavor to come to an understanding. Upon my return, I shall ask but one thing: what is to be the day of the wedding!  (Makes a hinting gesture to MARCELLO, another to BEATRICE, then exits.)

 

SCENE 4

 

MARCELLO     (Straddling a chair.)  Well, cousin? Is it gospel truth that we are to be man and wife?

BEATRICE     (Looks at him with a touch of surprise and sits.)  It would seem so.

MARCELLO     (Sighing.)  Ah, well!  (Draws out his cigarette case, take a cigarette and lights it.) 

BEATRICE     (Annoyed by the smoke, but pretending not to be.)  "Ah, well," he says!  (Looking at him.)  You have such a manner of behaving!

MARCELLO     What sort of manner is that?

BEATRICE     I should say ... eccentric.

MARCELLO     Hmm ... so it is.  (Flicking ash on the carpet.)  Don't you like eccentrics, cousin?

BEATRICE     It depends. There are those who are amiable and those who are not. In general, however, eccentrics are looked upon as oddities, but—

MARCELLO     (Finishing her sentence.)  —but one doesn't marry them. Quite right. Who, in your opinion, are the not so amiable eccentrics?

BEATRICE     I don't know .... Well ... for example ...

MARCELLO     He that shoots his horse on a bet?

BEATRICE     He is not eccentric; he is a madman.

MARCELLO     One that habitually courts women as his occupation, and compromises them?

BEATRICE     (With unaffected dignity.)  Of certain things, cousin, I have no knowledge! Nonetheless, it seems to me that such a man would not be an eccentric, but merely a good-for-nothing!

MARCELLO     (To himself.)  Take care—she is Prudence Incarnate!  (Aloud.)  Then tell me, who would not be amiable?

BEATRICE     (Twisting her handkerchief.)  Heavens! He that is unkind to ladies—if it were not for good reason.  (Offering him an ashtray.)  Would you like an ashtray?

MARCELLO     Thank you, no; never use them. Much easier without, don't you know.

BEATRICE     Ah.  (Continuing.)  He that possesses habits which are bit—a bit boorish. For example, forever having a cigar in his mouth.

MARCELLO     (Feigning ignorance.)  I see. And do you like men of that sort?

BEATRICE     (Fanning away a cloud of smoke.)  As much as I like smoke in my eyes!  (Coughs.)

MARCELLO     (Feigning surprise.)  Oh, I say! Does my cigar bother you?

BEATRICE     It makes me ill.

MARCELLO     Blast!  (Tosses it away.)  Most awfully sorry. For me, smoking is part of my existence. In the mornings, if I do not have a cigarette between my lips as soon as ever my eyes open, I simply cannot get out of bed. Likewise at night—if I have not enjoyed my Havana before closing my eyes, I am done for—can't sleep at all!

BEATRICE     (Astonished.)  But my uncle assured me that you have no bad habits.

MARCELLO     (Laughing.)  Oh, a father's knowledge of his own son is questionable! It is left to the fiancé, if he is an honest man, to do his duty.  (Soberly.)  And since I believe myself to be such a man, I shall make a confession to you.

BEATRICE     A confession?

MARCELLO     A delicate one, and most eccentric!  But first, tell me frankly: do you, by any chance, love me?

BEATRICE     Ha! You do make me laugh! I do love you—as a cousin. But otherwise? I beg your pardon, but how can one love, then and there, someone whom she has not seen these ten years?

MARCELLO     Yet you would marry me?

BEATRICE     To be sure! It is my uncle's wish.

MARCELLO     Your dead great-uncle?

BEATRICE     (Ingenuously.)  No, no. My living uncle-uncle.

MARCELLO     Has it never occurred to you that I might make you unhappy?

BEATRICE     Never. If my uncle advises me to marry you, it can only mean he is certain I should be happy.

MARCELLO     On the other hand, if my father were to advise you not to marry me—?

BEATRICE     Then I would not.

MARCELLO     You have such enormous faith in my father?

BEATRICE      (Warmly.)  And such esteem, such admiration! He is so wise, so kind—and he loves me so very much! Dear Uncle—and you wonder that I should have faith in him?

MARCELLO     Since that is so, I may make my confession without hesitation or fear. I say fear, for this is always a difficult thing to confess to the one who is to be one's wife.  (Weighing his words.)  I am in love with another woman. I can love none but her!  (With more ease.)  However, since certain things are best said sooner, I therefore tell you this now, so as not to repent later. Do I make myself clear?

BEATRICE     (Bewildered.)  With all the frankness—

MARCELLO     —of a seaman!

BEATRICE     You—are in love with another?

MARCELLO     (Warmly.)  A most beautiful girl with almond-shaped eyes. I do not exaggerate when I say she is beautiful! In all the world, I have not seen such eyes.

BEATRICE     Thank you for telling me, dear cousin!

MARCELLO     Pshaw! Ceremony between us? I left the Bosporus without saying a single word. Woe to me, had she known of it! She is as capable, capable indeed, of killing me and herself, as she is of cracking an egg!  (BEATRICE stares at him wordlessly.)  What is the matter? Why do you not speak?

BEATRICE     I hear you—but your father—? I cannot make it out.

MARCELLO     My father is concerned for your well-being—(sottovoce)—and a bit for his own!

BEATRICE     For his own? Not at all!

MARCELLO     How naïve you are! If you marry, all is well; but if not .... You understand? A spinster at home ... and with his hopes, his aspirations ....

BEATRICE     What sort of aspirations?

MARCELLO     Well—to remarry.

BEATRICE     Remarry?  (Surprised and incredulous.) 

MARCELLO     You don't know? Why, to be sure! And what a fine husband my father would be! Enough; I have done my duty. I have concealed nothing from you. If you are satisfied, here I am, ready to obey my father's command. If your answer is yes, we shall immediately prepare two apartments—one here and one elsewhere. If no, I shall promptly re-board my ship and hasten to dry the tears of that forsaken girl.  (Very casually.)  Whilst you are considering, I shall go out on the terrace and have a smoke.  (In full view of the audience, he goes and sits out on the terrace, lights a cigarette, crosses his legs and smokes arduously, watching BEATRICE all the while.)

BEATRICE     (To herself.)  I would have expected anything, but this—! Could my uncle have deceived me so? Poor thing! I understand very well that he, too—if it is true that he has the notion—!  (A bit piqued.)  Though if he wanted to be free of me, he could have told me why! Mean thing, wanting to remarry and saying nothing to me! Does he want to be free? I shall satisfy him in some other way. I shall settle in the country, alone with my old, grumbling aunt—until I, too, become a grumbling old maid! What else is there to do?  (Glancing towards her cousin.)  My cousin? No! Some other man? He wouldn't have me, not without a dowry. And if he wanted the dowry, it would mean that he wouldn't have me for my lovely eyes alone! So then, I shall be a good housekeeper. I shall learn how to breed silkworms, and teach it to my fellow peasants. The blessing of such good people shall be worth that happiness which I could not obtain through a marriage of convenience!  (Becoming somewhat emotional.)

MARCELLO     (Suddenly shouting.)  Cousin!

BEATRICE     (Startled.)  Yes?

MARCELLO     (Spiritedly.)  I've an idea! Between puffs, there flashed before me a scathingly brilliant idea!

BEATRICE     What?

MARCELLO     (Coming in from the terrace.)  What did Great-Uncle's will stipulate? That you, born a Guidobaldo, marry a Guidobaldi. Now, as far as I know, there are only two men in the world with that name: myself, and my father.

BEATRICE     (Curious.)  Well?

MARCELLO     Well—as for myself, I seem to be out of the question. That leaves my father!  (Blows out a cloud of smoke.)  Cousin—what if you were to marry—my father?

BEATRICE     (Caught unaware.)  Uncle? Ha, ha, ha!

MARCELLO     I find nothing laughable in it. To choose between a husband two years younger and one eighteen years older—a girl who has good sense, as do you, should not be in doubt.  (Convincingly.)  For it must be confessed: a father is worth more than a son. The chaps of my generation rather envy the men of my father's. Our hair begins to grey at thirty; that of a father, at sixty!  (Taking her hand.)  Have you looked closely at him? How elegant he is! What eyes! What teeth! Small hands and feet, half the size of my own! I give you my word of honor that, love aside, between him and me—if I were in your place—I should choose him!

BEATRICE     Oh—not Uncle! Such a serious man—

MARCELLO     (Pointedly.)  That is why he wants to remarry.

BEATRICE     (Becoming pensive.)  I am astonished!  But what of all the good he has said of you?

MARCELLO     Lies!

BEATRICE     (Angering.)  He has done wrong, then!

MARCELLO     Tell him! He would say she has done right.  (With a resigned air.)  As for me, I repeat—here I am!

BEATRICE     (Seriously.)  Marcello, that will do. Let us put an end to this nonsense.

MARCELLO     You see? Now you too are becoming serious! Believe me: in this world, what appears to be impossible is precisely that which comes about with the most ease!  (BEATRICE stares at him a moment, then laughs.)  Go on, then, laugh; but consider! Here he is. He left me alone with you—I shall leave you alone with him.  (Insisting.)  Speak to him, but in doing so, look at him closely—particularly his eyes!

BEATRICE     (Still laughing.)  I understand. Very well, I shall look at him. You truly are an eccentric!

 

END SCENE

 

To be continued.

 



Drink or Drown: Part One

DRINK OR DROWN  (O BERE O AFFOGARE)
A comedy in one act by Leo di Castelnovo

Translated from the Italian © 2001 by Leticia Austria


Cast of Characters:

BEATRICE GUIDOBALDI, niece and ward of
ARIBERTO GUIDOBALDI, father of
MARCELLO
A SERVANT

Italy, 1870's. A richly appointed salon in Ariberto's house.

 

SCENE 1

BEATRICE is busy arranging a basket of flowers. ARIBERTO is pacing, absorbed in thought.

 

BEATRICE     (Without stopping her work.)  Uncle!

ARIBERTO     Eh?

BEATRICE     What is the time?

ARIBERTO     (Distractedly.)  Two o'clock.

BEATRICE     And when is it Marcello arrives?

ARIBERTO     (Abashed.)  I know not.

BEATRICE     (Smiling.)  You do not know when your own son arrives? Come now!

ARIBERTO     If I knew, I would tell you. Why should I not tell you?  (Approaching her and changing the subject.)  What do you do there, with so much care?

BEATRICE     Ungrateful uncle! It is for you, what I am doing! Cannot you see? I am filling the room with flowers. You have given hospitality to your niece, and she wishes to leave some trace of her stay in this house: flowers here and there, a bit of scent—  (Prettily.)  Tomorrow, these blooms shall be quite faded—I shall return to the country—and you may toss them out the window!  (Pointing one out.)  See how pretty is this rose.

ARIBERTO     (Still preoccupied.)  Very pretty.

BEATRICE     Oh! Such manners! Mind you, as long as I am to stay in your house, I shall place flowers everywhere, whether you like it or not!  (Noticing his anxiety.)  But what troubles you, that you pay me no attention? Do you wish to tell me when this blessed betrothed of mine is coming?

ARIBERTO     (To himself.)  Oh, if she knew that he is already arrived—!  (Aloud.)  If I tell you I know not—  (Pacing and tugging at his moustache.)

BEATRICE     (Laughing.)  Very well, then; let me guess. He shall arrive shortly.

ARIBERTO     Who told you that?

BEATRICE     Your nerves. You see how you torture your poor whiskers? That is the most eloquent proof of your nervousness.

ARIBERTO     Yes, all right—it is true; I expect him at any moment. And as it grows late, I am worried.

BEATRICE     Are you not going out to meet your son, who returns home after five years away? You do not stand on ceremony with me, I hope!

ARIBERTO     (To himself.)  She confounds me!  (Aloud.)  What an idea! It is only that I do not wish that so many people witness my emotion. You know—they all form their own notions.

BEATRICE     Then that door may open at any moment, and your son—my fiancé—may suddenly appear, like the bogey man?

ARIBERTO     (Glancing toward the door to which BEATRICE refers.)  Good Lord, I am a bundle of nerves!

BEATRICE     (Finished arranging the flowers, she rises.)  There! Now, Uncle, do not you find this basket pleasing?  (Provoked, because he continue to tug his whiskers and pays no attention.)  Forget your poor nerves for a little, and be good!

ARIBERTO     (Takes her hands, gazing at her.)  come closer, Let me look at you.

BEATRICE     (Prettily.)  Here I am! And what would you read in my face, with so much seriousness?

ARIBERTO     Whether your cousin's arrival does not disturb you in any way. . . . I say, you are quite beautiful, Beatrice!  (Towards the door.)  You know, my son does not deserve you!

BEATRICE     Sh! Why all this bellowing? And what do you mean, "disturb" me?

ARIBERTO     (Looking at her.)  There is nothing—not even the slightest flush in your cheeks.  (Touching her wrist.)  No quickening of the pulse—nothing! Your calm gives me cause to wonder.

BEATRICE     (Laughing.)  Poor Uncle!

ARIBERTO     It is no laughing matter! Mine is a delicate situation.  (Stomping his foot.)  Oh, if only my good uncle had reconsidered before he died! What the devil sort of will was it? "I leave all my earthly possessions in equal parts to my heirs: my nephew Ariberto"—me—"my grandniece Beatrice,"—you—"orphan of my other nephew Goffredo,"—my brother—"provided this same grandniece, born a Guidobaldi, marry a Guidobaldi. Should she, however,—"

BEATRICE     (Interrupting him laughing, as one who repeats something long memorized.)  "Should she, however, for whatever reson, not cede to my wish that she marry a Guidobaldi, her share of my wealth shall pass to my beloved nephew Ariberto." I've heard it so often repeated, I know it by heart!

ARIBERTO     But I do not wish to have your share, you understand? So: either marry my son, or remain a spinster your entire life!  (Gravely.)  But—what if Marcello, whom you knew as a child, should prove disagreeable to you as a man?

BEATRICE     He is your son! He can be nothing but a gentleman of quality.

ARIBERTO     But—you do not love him.

BEATRICE     But I shall love him. You have told me so often he is to be my husband, that now I am persuaded of it! I shall be happy.

ARIBERTO     (Towards the door.)  God willing!  (A cough is heard offstage.) 

BEATRICE     (Startled.)  Oh—there is someone listening. (Moves to the door, but ARIBERTO stops her.) 

ARIBERTO     No, no! Merely someone talking in the courtyard. It must be Marcello, just arrived.

BEATRICE     It is he? Then I shall go.

ARIBERTO     Go? Why?

BEATRICE     (Indulgently.)  I am a woman! Before meeting my fiancé after these ten years, I want to have a look in the mirror. Do you think he would marry me in the state I am now? We must ensure that he will not find me at my least attractive.  (Makes to leave, then turns back.)  I should not like to call you "Papa", you know. "Dear Uncle"—"guardian"—those are easy enough; but "Papa"? My tongue would rebel, rather.

ARIBERTO     And when may I be called "Grandpapa", my daughter?

BEATRICE     (Bursting out laughing.)  Grandpapa? With those curly whiskers, and that slim, elegant figure? Do not make me laugh so!  (Sniffs a rose in the basket.)

ARIBERTO     (Nervously.)  What are you doing? What about the mirror? Did you not want to tidy yourself?

BEATRICE     One moment—I want to give you a present.  (Placing a rose in his button-hole with solemn courtesy.)  For you. See how well it looks! This lovely rose was the only thing you were lacking.  (Moving a bit away from him to get a better look.)  And you want to be called "Grandpapa"!  (Vivaciously.)  Anything else, yes, but Grandpapa—absolutely not!

ARIBERTO     (Urging her to leave.)  There is no doubt! This time it is really he!

BEATRICE     I'm going. I'm going!  (Exits L.)

 

SCENE 2

(BEATRICE has not completely left; she pokes her head through the door.)

 

MARCELLO     Has she gone?

ARIBERTO     Wait a moment! (Hurries to the door to give BEATRICE time to get away.)  You rascal! You swore to compromise me—make a liar out of me? No, I did not tell her you had arrived last night; and since then, you have caused me endless distress. You are just this minute arrived, understood?

MARCELLO     (Glancing towards the door.)  Understood.

ARIBERTO     Well, then? Have you seen her? Have you considered?

MARCELLO     I have, indeed.

ARIBERTO     And the upshot is—

MARCELLO     —that it was not worth crossing so much ocean only to repeat what I have told you again and again in my letters and telegrams: no, no, no—  (As he speaks, his voice rises in volume.) 

ARIBERTO     (Clapping a hand over his mouth.)  Don't shout! Shame on you! Where will you ever find another more beautiful and agreeable than your cousin?

MARCELLO     (Still reckless.)  Now, listen, Papa! When I was a boy you sent me away to school against my will. I went, because I had to. (Imitating his father.)  "Well, of course, it was not my fault if the Principal was ill-tempered"—then one fine day, pulled by the hair,—

ARIBERTO     (As before, stopping him by the arm.)  Shh! None of these theatricals! Lower your voice, I tell you!

MARCELLO     (Beginning sottovoce, but then little by little getting louder.)  Following that fatal event, you took it into your head that I was a scamp. "the sea shall put you to rights!"—and you sent me into the Navy. I went—by force, it is true, but I went. I sailed for five years, made three journeys round the world. God knows how my poor stomach bore it, but I had submitted myself! Twice I was on the point of being swallowed by a shark. Did I complain? Now, for some reason or other, you oblige me to abandon my blue Bosporus. On its shore, along with the Legation, on which you took so much pleasure in imprisoning me, I left behind two almond-shaped eyes. Yes, I abandoned those eyes, the Legation,—everything! No matter; I obeyed, and I am arrived. Am I, or am I not, reasonable? And now you want to present me with a wife, even when I tell you that I have sworn my love and constancy to another! I beg your pardon, Papa, but this—this is too much!

ARIBERTO     (Who had been gesturing to him to lower his voice, begins to lose patience.)  Marcello! Do not cause me to lose my temper! You must believe in the experience of my forty years. When you better know the world—

MARCELLO     (Interrupting.)  You make me go round it three times, and have the audacity to tell me that I don't know it?

ARIBERTO     Yes! Even the wool-winder turns when winding the wool into a ball. Do you know what it does, the wool-winder?  (Calming.)  Pay heed to these grey hairs . . .

MARCELLO     (Looking in amusement at his father's head.)  Where are they? You hide them very well—I cannot even see them!

ARIBERTO     Do you see these wrinkles? It was you gave them to me! Do not add to their number, and I shall forget all the worry you have caused me!  (MARCELLO shakes his head.)  There is but little to discuss. You recall you uncle's will? Well, we cannot get out of it: either we drink, or we drown!

MARCELLO     If I did not drown in the ocean, you may be certain I shall not drown now! As for Uncle's will—I take my hat off to his millions; I bow down before his splendor, his honor, and his name; but I tell you loudly and distinctly that, concerning his name, I believe I would do it much more harm going back on a promise already made, than by making another, which I could not keep! So—all things considered—show your hand! What is this marriage, after all? A game of interests, nothing more.

ARIBERTO     That is not true. It means happiness for you, fortune for her—and it would be a good deed.

MARCELLO     Marriage, a good deed? Hmph! Until now I have known various kinds of marriage: that of love, of convenience, of caprice; I have known marriages of common interest, of hasty necessity—and finally, the ultimate marriage, from which God saves us. But I confess my ignorance; I did not know there also existed the "marriage of good deed"!

ARIBERTO     Yes, a good deed! Do not feign to be ignorant of it. Rather, you must appreciate the sentiment which leads me to it. Beatrice is beautiful and good; she has wit, spirit—she shall make a model wife! And you?  (Fondly.)  You, if you are like you poor mother in heart as you are in countenance, you cannot be wicked, not with intention nor by whim. Through this marriage, I give you an angel who shall render your life blessed; through her husband, I shall be giving her all the comfort of which an ill-inspired will would have deprived her in my favour.

MARCELLO     And what of the other lady, who would die of a broken heart?

ARIBERTO     Rubbish! The whims of youth! She shall have forgotten you even as we speak! Beatrice, however—once you come to know her, you shall adore her!

MARCELLO     (Firmly.)  I cannot, Papa, I cannot!

ARIBERTO     No?  (Sternly.)  Then hear my ultimatum! Either reform, and everything shall go well; or persist in this nonsense, and I shall solemnly declare, since I alone am administrator of my affairs, that before my eyes close forever, I shall dispose of my fortune in any manner I choose.  (MARCELLO makes as if to speak.)  You know me well, Marcello. You know that when I confront obstinacy and ingratitude, I am implacable as stone.  (Gravely.)  It is time to decide. Look at me: do you think I am in jest? Decide.

MARCELLO     (Resigned.)  Very well. I shall speak to Beatrice.

ARIBERTO     (Rings a bell; a SERVANT enters.)  Ask the marchioness if she would kindly favour us with her company.  (Exit SERVANT L.) 

MARCELLO     But what if I should not please her?

ARIBERTO     You must!

MARCELLO     Oh, yes? Very well. I shall try.

ARIBERTO     (Sighing.)  Thank Heaven!  (Motioning him nearer.)  Come here. Settle your cravat a bit.  (Adjusting it for him.)  Smooth your hair. button your coat. Try to look agreeable—be courteous—  (Noting with exasperation MARCELLO's awkwardness.)  So this is my son! Upon my word, enough to drive one mad!

MARCELLO     (To himself.)  What must be, must be!

 

END SCENE

 

To be continued.  

Wanna Play?

In the late '90s, after acquiring a better command of the Italian language, I decided to put some of my spare time in Houston to good use by writing English tranlations of Italian plays. My goal was two-fold: to develop further my knowledge of Italian, especially archaic, and to hone my writing skills. It was meant to be a fun exercise; I had no thought whatever of doing anything with my translations. I chose plays that, as far as I knew, had never been rendered into English, or had not been in recent years. I began with a humdinger—Torquato Tasso's Aminta. When I began my work on it, I knew only of Leigh Hunt's 1820 translation, which was in verse. I decided to write mine in literal prose, using period (late 1500's) language. As I saw the completion of my translation in sight, I read in The New York Review of Books (I think that's where I read it, anyway) that someone had just published a new verse translation of Aminta. Oh, well.

I then turned to my small collection of Italian plays bought randomly from used book stores and antique shops. They are all late-19th century or early-20th century works, and I have tried to use period language for all of them. Over the next few years I translated, in all, eight plays:

     Aminta  (Amyntas) by Torquato Tasso
     O Bere o Affogare  (Drink or Drown) by Leo di Castelnovo
     Il Piccolo Santo  (The Little Saint) by Roberto Bracco
     La Moglie Ideale  (The Perfect Wife) by Marco Praga
     Le Ire di Giuliano  (The Wrath of Giuliano) by Italo Svevo
     L'Avventura di Maria  (Maria's Adventure) by Italo Svevo
     Una Commedia Inedita  (An Unpublished Comedy) by Italo Svevo
     Le Teorie di Conte Alberto  (The Theories of Count Albert) by Italo Svevo

I would like to share some, if not all, of these on this blog, not abandoning, of course, my poetry and journal postings. Some of the plays are multi-act, others are one-act; but I'll have to post all of them, even the shortest, in piecemeal fashion, probably scene by scene.

 

The first to be posted (a few days from now) will be La Moglie Ideale,  which was written in 1890 and believed to be one of Eleonora Duse's best vehicles. I look forward to sharing these theatrical gems with you!