THE THIRD SCENE
A BALL AT MAN'S HOUSE
_The ball is in the drawing-room of Man's large mansion. It is a very lofty, spacious, perfectly rectangular room. The floor is bright and smooth. There is a certain irregularity about the room due to the disproportionate size of the parts. Thus, the doors are very small in proportion to the windows. This produces a strange, irritating impression, as of something disharmonious, something lacking, and also of something superfluous and adventitious. The whole is pervaded by a chilly white, the monotony of which is broken only by a row of windows in the rear wall. They are very high, reaching almost to the ceiling, and dense with the blackness of night. Not one gleam, not a bright spot shows in the blank spaces between the window frames. Man's wealth shows in the abundance of gildings. There are gilded chairs, and very wide gold frames enclose the pictures. These constitute the only furniture as well as the only ornamentation. The lighting is from three chandeliers shaped like tings, with a few electric lights placed at a great distance apart. At the ceiling the light is bright, but considerably less so below, so that the walls seem grayish.
The ball is in full swing. The music is furnished by an orchestra of three pieces. The musicians resemble closely their respective instruments; the violinist, a violin—lean neck, small head, a shock of hair brushed to one side, back somewhat bent, a handkerchief correctly adjusted on his shoulder under the violin; the flute-player, a flute—very, tall, with a thin, elongated face, and stiff, thin legs, the bass-violinist, a double-bass—stumpy, round-shouldered, lower part of his body very stout, wide trousers. The uncommon effort with which the musicians play is painfully evident. They beat time, swing their heads, and shake their bodies. The tune is the same throughout the ball, a short polka in two musical phrases, producing a jolly, hopping, extremely insipid effect. The three instruments do not quite keep time with one another, producing a sort of queer detachment, a vacant space, as it were, between them and the sounds which they produce.
Young men and girls are dancing dreamily. All are handsome, distinguished-looking, with good figures. In contrast to the piercing notes of the music, their dancing is smooth, noiseless, light. At the first musical phrase, they circle around; at the second, they gracefully part and join again. There is a slight mannerism in their dancing.
Along the walls, on the gilded chairs, sit the Guests, stiff and constrained. They scarcely venture to move their heads. Their conversation is also constrained. They do not whisper to one another; they do not laugh, and they scarcely look at one another. They speak abruptly, as if chopping out the words of a text. Their hands hanging superciliously over their laps make their arms look as if they had been broken at the wrists. The monotony of their faces is strongly emphasized. Every face bears the same expression of self-satisfaction, haughtiness, and inane respect for the wealth of Man.
The dancing girls are all in white, the men in black. Some of the
Guests wear black, white, and brightly yellow? flowers.
In the near corner, which is darker than the rest, Someone in Gray called He stands motionless. The candle in his hand is reduced two-thirds and burns with a strong, yellow light, casting a yellow sheen on His stony face and chin._
THE GUESTS' CONVERSATION
—It is a very great honor to be a guest at Man's ball.
—You may add, it is an honor of which very few have been deemed worthy. The whole city tried to get themselves invited, but only a very few succeeded. My husband, my children, and I are quite proud of the honor Man has showed us.
—I am really sorry for those who were not able to get here. They won't sleep the whole night from sheer envy, and to-morrow they'll say nasty things about the ball and call it a bore.
—They never saw such magnificence.
—Or such wonderful wealth and luxury.
—Or, I dare say, such charming, free and easy gayety.
—If this isn't gay, I should like to know what is.
—Oh, what's the use of talking? You can't convince people consumed by jealousy. They'll tell us we didn't sit on gilded chairs, absolutely not.
—They'll say that the chairs were of the commonest sort, bought at second hand.
—That the illumination was not by electricity, but just by tallow candles.
—Say candle stumps.
—Or dirty lamps.
—They'll have the impudence to maintain that the mouldings in Man's house are not gilded.
—And that the broad picture frames are not made of gold. It seems to me I can hear the very ring of it.
—You can see its glitter. That's quite sufficient, I should think.
—I have rarely had the pleasure of hearing such music.
—It is divine harmony. It transports the soul to higher spheres.
—I should think the music good enough, considering the money paid for it. It is the best trio in the city. They play on the most important and solemn occasions.
—If you listen awhile, it compels your absolute attention. After a ball at Man's, my children keep singing the tune a long time.
—I sometimes think I hear it in the street. I look around—no musicians, no music.
—What I like especially in these musicians is the great effort they make when they play. They know the price they're paid and don't want to get the money for nothing. That's very decent of them.
—It seems as if they became a part of their instruments, their efforts are so great.
—Or as if the instruments became part of them.
—How rich!
—How magnificent!
—How brilliant!
—How rich!
[For some time the two expressions, "How rich! How magnificent!" are repeated from different parts of the room, uttered abruptly, like a bark.
—Beside this ballroom there are fourteen other magnificent rooms in Man's house. I have seen them all. The dining-room has such a huge fireplace that you can put a whole log into it. There are magnificent guest-rooms and a beautiful boudoir. A large bedroom, and over the pillows on the beds—just fancy!—canopies!
—Why, how wonderful! Canopies!
—Did you hear? Canopies!
—Permit me to continue. For their son, the little boy, they have a beautiful bright room of golden yellow wood. It looks as if the sun were shining into it all the time.
—He is such a fine boy. He has curly hair that looks like the rays of the sun.
—That's true. When you look at him you wonder whether the sun has risen.
—And when you look at his eyes you think: "Autumn is, gone, and the blue sky is here again."
—Man loves his son madly. He bought him a pony for horseback riding, a nice snow-white pony. My children—
—Pray, let me continue. Have I told you yet about the swimming-pool?
—No. No.
—A swimming-pool, a perfect marvel.
—What, a swimming-pool!
—Yes. And further on is Man's study, full of books, books, books.
They say he's a very learned man.
—You can see it by the books.
—I have seen his garden.
—I haven't.
—It was entrancing, I must say. Imagine an emerald-green lawn kept beautifully mowed and trimmed at the edges. In the middle a path of fine red sand.
—Flowers—even palms.
—Yes, even palms. And all the trees trimmed as carefully and precisely as the lawn, some cut in the shape of pyramids, others in the shape of green columns. There's a lovely fountain and little plaster elves and deer scattered all around in the grass.
—How rich!
—How magnificent!
—How brilliant!
—How rich!
—Man did me the honor of showing me his stables and barns. I had to tell him how much I admired his horses and carriages. I was particularly impressed by his motor car.
—Think of it, he has seven servants; seven—a chef, a woman-cook, two maids, gardeners—
—You forget the coachman and the chauffeur.
—Yes, of course, the coachman and the chauffeur.
—And they themselves do nothing at all. They are too fine.
—You must admit, it is a great honor to have been invited to Man's ball.
—Don't you find the music somewhat monotonous?
—No, I don't, and I'm surprised you do. Don't you see what kind of musicians they are?
—I should like to hear such music all my life. That's what I say.
There's something, in that music that stirs me.
—Me too.
—Me too.
—It is a delicious sensation to abandon oneself to dreams of happiness under the influence of this music!
—To transport oneself in fancy to the astral spheres!
—How fine!
—How rich!
—How magnificent!
[These phrases are repeated.
—I notice a stir at that door. Man and his Wife will soon pass through the hall.
—The musicians are working away for dear life.
—There they are!
—They're coming! Look, they're coming!
_[Man, his Wife, his Friends, and his Enemies appear in the door on the right, cross the room diagonally to the door on the left. The dancers go on dancing, but part to make way for them. The musicians play desperately loud and out of tune. Man has aged greatly. His long hair and long beard are beginning to turn gray. But his face is manly and handsome, and he walks with calm dignity and an air of coldness. He looks straight ahead of him, as if not noticing those around him. His Wife has also aged, but she is still beautiful and walks leaning on his arm. She too seems not to notice the people around her, but looks straight ahead, with a rather strange, almost fixed expression. Both are richly dressed.
His Friends follow directly behind Man. They resemble one another very much—noble faces, high and candid foreheads, honest eyes. They walk proudly, throwing out their chests, stepping firmly and confidently, and looking, now to this side, now to that, with condescension and slight disdain. They wear white roses in their buttonholes.
Following them at a slight distance come Man's Enemies, also very much resembling one another—mean, cunning faces; low, heavy foreheads; long, ape-like arms. They walk uneasily, pushing, bending, and hiding behind one another, and casting sharp, mean, envious, sidelong glances from beneath lowered lids. Yellow roses appear in their buttonholes. Thus they pass through the room, slowly and in perfect silence. The sounds of the steps, the music, and the exclamations of the Guests produce a sharply discordant noise._
GUESTS' CONVERSATION
—There they are. There they are. What an honor!
—How handsome he is!
—What a manly face!
—Look! Look!
—He isn't looking at us!
—He doesn't see us!
—We are his guests!
—What an honor! What an honor!
—And his wife! Look! Look!
—How beautiful she is!
—How proud!
—I tell you, just look at her diamonds!
—Her pearls! Her pearls!
—And her rubies!
—How rich! What an honor!
—Honor! Honor! Honor!
[The same phrases are repeated again.
—Here are Man's Friends!
—Look, look, there are Man's Friends.
—Noble faces!
—Proud gait!
—They shine with the reflected splendor of his fame.
—How they love him!
—How faithful they are to him!
—What an honor to be one of Man's Friends!
—They regard everything here as their own!
—They're at home here!
—What an honor!
—Honor! Honor! Honor!
[Same phrases are repeated.
—And there are Man's Enemies!
—Look, look, Man's Enemies!
—They walk like whipped curs!
—Man has subdued them!
—He's put a muzzle on them!
—They're wagging their tails!
—They're sneaking behind one another.
—They're pushing one another.
—Ha-ha! Ha-ha!
[Everybody laughs.
—What mean faces!
—What greedy looks!
—Cowardly!
—Malevolent!
—They're afraid to look at us!
—They feel we're at home!
—Let's frighten them.
—Man'll be thankful to us for it.
—Ho-ho!
[They shout at Man's Enemies, mingling their shouts with laughter. The Enemies huddle closer together and cast sharp, timid, sideward glances.
—They're going! They're going!
—What an honor!
—They're going!
—Ho-ho! Ha-ha!
—They're gone! They're gone! They're gone!
[The procession disappears through the door on the left. A pause of silence. The music plays less loudly, and the dancers begin gradually to fill the hall.
—Where did they go?
—I believe they went to the dining-room, where supper is being served.
—I suppose they'll soon invite us in. Do you see anybody looking for us?
—Yes, it's time for supper. If you eat too late, you can't sleep well.
—I always serve supper early.
—A late supper lies heavy on your stomach.
—And the music is still playing.
—And they're still dancing.
—I wonder they don't get tired.
—How rich!
—How magnificent!
—Do you know for how many guests they have prepared the supper?
—I didn't get a chance to count all the covers. The caterer came in, and I had to get out.
—Could they possibly have forgotten us?
—Man is so proud, and we are so unimportant.
—Don't say that. My husband says we do him an honor by accepting his invitation. We are rich, too.
—When you consider the reputation of his wife—
—Do you see anyone looking for us? Maybe he's looking for us in the other rooms.
—How rich!
—If you are not careful with other people's money, it's easy to get rich, I think.
—Oh, now, it's only his enemies who say that.
—Well, after all, there are some very respectable people among them.
I must admit that my husband—
—It is late, though.
—It's clear there must be a mistake somewhere. I can't believe we've simply been forgotten.
—Evidently you know people and life very little if you think so.
—I am surprised. We are rich enough ourselves.
—It seems to me someone called us.
—You're mistaken, no one called us. I don't understand it. To be quite frank—why did we come to a house like this, with such a reputation? One should be very careful of the friends one chooses.
A LIVERIED LACKEY (appears at the door)
Man and his Wife beg the honored guests to step into the dining-room.
GUESTS (rising quickly)
—What a livery!
—He asked us to come in!
—I said there must be a mistake somewhere.
—Man is so good. I'm sure he hasn't had a chance to sit down at table himself.
—Didn't I say someone was looking for us?
—What a livery!
—They say the supper is grand.
—Everything at Man's is done in a grand style.
—What music! What an honor to be at Man's ball!
—Let those envy us who—
—How grand!
—How magnificent!
—What an honor!
[They go out one after the other, repeating the last phrases. One couple after the other stop dancing and follow the Guests in silence. For some time a single couple remain circling on the floor, but they too join the others at last. The musicians, however, continue to play, making the same desperate effort. The lackey turns out the electric lights, leaving only one light in the farthest chandelier. The figures of the musicians are vaguely seen in the dim light, swaying to and fro with their instruments. The outline of Someone in Gray is sharply visible. The flame of the candle flickers, illuminating His stony face and chin with a garish, yellow light. He turns around without raising his head, walks slowly and calmly through the whole length of the room, and disappears through the door through which Man passed out.