Three Plays: The Young Lady from Tacna, Kathie and the Hippopotamus, La Chunga Read Online Free PDF Page B

unattractive nickname. They used to call her ‘The Soldier’s Woman.’
    BELISARIO: What is a soldier’s woman, Mamaé?
    MAMAE: Ach, it’s a nasty expression. ( Her mind wandering , talking as if to herself ) But she wasn’t stupid, she came out with a few home truths. Such as: ‘A woman can only keep her pride if she renounces love.’
    BELISARIO: You’re off on your own again, Mamaé. You’ve left me dangling in mid-air.
    ( He gets to his feet and goes back to his desk, muttering to himself, while MAMAE’ s lips keep on moving for a moment, as if she were carrying on with the story. Then she falls asleep. ) The wicked woman … No story was ever complete without one. And a very good thing too. There should always be wicked women in romantic stories. Don’t be afraid, Belisario, take a tip from your old Mamaé. Besides, paper doesn’t discriminate, you can write anything you like on it. So fill the story with wicked women, they’re always so much more interesting. There were two of them, weren’t there, Mamaé? Sometimes she was called Carlota and she was a mischievous woman who lived in Tacna at the beginning of the century. And sometimes she was an Indian woman from Camaná, who had been thrashed by a gentleman for some mysterious reason during the twenties. ( Starts to write .) They often got mixed up or overlapped, and then there was that mother-of-pearl fan which suddenly started to feature in the stories – the one some romantic poet had scribbled a few hasty lines on.
    GRANDMOTHER: ( Coming in ) Elvira! Elvira! But what have you done? Have you gone quite mad? Your wedding dress! I don’t believe it! All that beautiful lace embroidery, and that veil – so fine and delicate it was almost like foam!
    MAMAE: It took half a box of matches and I burnt the ends of my fingers. Eventually I thought of putting a little paraffin on it. It went up all right then.
    GRANDMOTHER: ( Distressed ) But the wedding is tomorrow. We’ve got people coming all the way from Moquegua, Iquique, and Arica. You haven’t had a row with Joaquín? Really, Elvirita, on the day before your wedding. You mean the house has been festooned with lilies and roses all for nothing? And we’ve spent a month preparing sweets and pastries just for the fun of it? They’ve just brought the wedding cake.
    MAMAE: Has it got three tiers? Like the one in that novel by Gustave Flaubert? With marzipan columns and almond Cupids? Oh, we simply must eat it even if I don’t get married. That Italian, Máspoli, is bound to have gone to so much trouble, he’s always so sweet to me.
    GRANDMOTHER: Well, aren’t you going to tell me what happened? We’ve never had any secrets from each other. Why did you burn your wedding dress?
    MAMAE: Because I don’t want to get married any more.
    GRANDMOTHER: But why? You and Joaquín seemed so happy together – up until last night anyway. What’s he done to you?
    MAMAE: Nothing. I’ve discovered I’m just not interested in marriage. I prefer to remain single.
    GRANDMOTHER: How do you mean, you’re just not interested in marriage? You can’t fool me, Elvirita. Every girl wants to marry, it’s her one ambition in life and you’re no exception. We grew up dreaming about the day we’d have our own homes, guessing what our husbands would look like, choosing names for our children. Have you forgotten that already?
    MAMAE: Yes, my dear. I’ve forgotten all about it.
    GRANDMOTHER: You haven’t. I don’t believe you.
(GRANDMOTHER and MAMAE carry on their conversation silently . BELISARIO has stopped writing for a moment. He looks pensive, absorbed in his own thoughts. When he speaks, it is as if he were watching them and listening to what they say. )
    BELISARIO: Their houses were both going to be as spotless and tidy as the British Consul’s. They were both going to have maids who would always be impeccably dressed in well-starched pinafores and bonnets; Grandma and Mamaé were going to send them off to