The Tragedy of Mister Morn Read Online Free PDF Page A

reeds
    whispered to me of adultery. I prayed. I bribed
    my creeping doubts with forced memories,
    with the most winged, the most sacred ones,
    which lose their colour as they fly into words,
    and now, suddenly …
    ELLA [ approaching ]:
Of course he was joking!
    TREMENS:
    Eavesdropping, eh?
    ELLA:
No. I’ve long known—
    you love equivocating little words,
    riddles, that’s all …
    TREMENS [to ganus]:
Do you recognize my daughter?
    GANUS:
    What, surely it can’t be—Ella? That girl
    who always lay spread out with a book, here
    on this fur, while we reduced worlds to ashes? …
    ELLA:
    And you would blaze louder than the rest,
    and smoke so much, sometimes, it seemed there were
    not people but ghosts dancing in the grey-blue
    waves … But how did you return?
    GANUS:
I stunned
    two sentries with a log and wandered lost
    for half a year … And now, having finally
    arrived, the fugitive dares not enter
    his own home …
    ELLA:
I go there often.
    GANUS:
How nice …
    ELLA:
    Yes, I am very friendly with your wife.
    Many a time in your dark drawing room
    have we spoken of your bitter fate. In truth,
    sometimes it was hard for me: for no one
    knows that my father …
    GANUS:
I understand …
    ELLA:
Often,
    in soundless splendour, she cried, as you know
    Midia cries—silently and without blinking …
    In the summer, we strolled in the city outskirts,
    where you had strolled with her … Recently,
    she told your fortune by looking at the moon
    through a glass of wine … I’ll tell you more:
    this very evening I’m going to a party
    at her house—there will be dancing, poets …
[ points to TREMENS ]
    Look, he has dozed off …
    GANUS:
A party—
    but without me …
    ELLA:
Without you?
    GANUS:
I am
    an outlaw: if they catch me, I’m done for …
    Listen, I’ll write a note—you can give it
    to her, and I’ll wait downstairs for an answer …
    ELLA [ twirling around ]:
    I’ve got it! I’ve got it! How splendid!
    You see, I study at a theatre school,
    I have paints and pomades here in seven
    different colours … I’ll smear your face in such
    a way that God himself, on Judgement Day,
    won’t recognize you! Well, do you want to?
    GANUS:
    Yes … It’s just that …
    ELLA:
I’ll simply say
    that you’re an actor, an acquaintance of mine,
    and haven’t taken off your make-up—
    because it was so good … Perfect! It’s not
    up for discussion! Sit down here, closer
    to the light. That’s good. You shall be Othello—
    the curly-haired, old, dark-skinned Moor.
    I’ll also give you my father’s frock-coat
    and black gloves …
    GANUS:
How amusing: Othello
    in a frock-coat! …
    ELLA:
Sit still.
    TREMENS [ grimacing, he wakes up ]:
Oh … I think
    I fell asleep … Have you both lost your minds?
    ELLA:
    He cannot see his wife otherwise.
    There will be guests there after all.
    TREMENS:
Strange:
    I dreamt that the King was being strangled
    by a colossal negro …
    ELLA:
I think our chance
    remarks seeped into your dream, got mixed up
    with your thoughts …
    TREMENS:
Ganus, what do you suppose,
    will it be long? … will it be long? …
    GANUS:
What? …
    ELLA:
    Don’t move your lips, talk of the King can
    wait a little …
    TREMENS:
The King, the King, the King!
    Everything is full of him: the people’s souls,
    the air, and it is said that in the clouds
    at sunrise, it is his coat-of-arms that shines,
    and not the dawn. Meanwhile, no one knows
    what he looks like. On coins he wears a mask.
    They say, he walks amongst the crowds, sharp-sighted
    and unrecognized, throughout the city,
    in the market places.
    ELLA:
I’ve seen him ride
    to the senate, accompanied by horsemen.
    The carriage gleams all over in blue lacquer.
    On the door there is a crown, and in
    the window the blind is lowered …
    TREMENS:
… and, I think,
    inside there’s no one. Our King walks
    on foot … And the blue lustre and the black steeds
    are for show. He is a fraud, our King!
    He should