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NLP Research Group 9

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

terrible

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Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

disapprove

How many times the word 'disapprove' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

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Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

mind

How many times the word 'mind' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

sublime

How many times the word 'sublime' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

towards

How many times the word 'towards' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

left

How many times the word 'left' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

instead

How many times the word 'instead' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

wind

How many times the word 'wind' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

come

How many times the word 'come' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

sister

How many times the word 'sister' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

hall

How many times the word 'hall' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

makes

How many times the word 'makes' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

figures

How many times the word 'figures' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

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Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

whatever

How many times the word 'whatever' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

difference

How many times the word 'difference' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

themselves

How many times the word 'themselves' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

prude

How many times the word 'prude' appears in the text?

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room up-stairs, sitting close by the window. They had not as yet met since the evening of Lady Monk's party, nor had Lady Glencora seen Alice in the mourning which she now wore for her grandfather. "Oh, dear, what a change it makes in you," she said. "I never thought of your being in black." "I don't know what it is you want, but shan't I do in mourning as well as I would in colours?" "You'll do in anything, dear. But I have so much to tell you, and I don't know how to begin. And I've so much to ask of you, and I'm so afraid you won't do it." "You generally find me very complaisant." "No I don't, dear. It is very seldom you will do anything for me. But I must tell you everything first. Do take your bonnet off, for I shall be hours in doing it." "Hours in telling me!" "Yes; and in getting your consent to what I want you to do. But I think I'll tell you that first. I'm to be taken abroad immediately." "Who is to take you?" "Ah, you may well ask that. If you could know what questions I have asked myself on that head! I sometimes say things to myself as though they were the most proper and reasonable things in the world, and then within an hour or two I hate myself for having thought of them." "But why don't you answer me? Who is going abroad with you?" "Well; you are to be one of the party." "I!" "Yes; you. When I have named so very respectable a chaperon for my youth, of course you will understand that my husband is to take us." "But Mr. Palliser can't leave London at this time of the year?" "That's just it. He is to leave London at this time of the year. Don't look in that way, for it's all settled. Whether you go with me or not, I've got to go. To-day is Tuesday. We are to be off next Tuesday night, if you can make yourself ready. We shall breakfast in Paris on Wednesday morning, and then it will be to us all just as if we were in a new world. Mr. Palliser will walk up and down the new court of the Louvre, and you will be on his left arm, and I shall be on his right,--just like English people,--and it will be the most proper thing that ever was seen in life. Then we shall go on to Basle"--Alice shuddered as Basle was mentioned, thinking of the balcony over the river--"and so to Lucerne--. But no; that was the first plan, and Mr. Palliser altered it. He spent a whole day up here with maps and Bradshaw's and Murray's guide-books, and he scolded me so because I didn't care whether we went first to Baden or to some other place. How could I care? I told him I would go anywhere he chose to take me. Then he told me I was heartless;--and I acknowledged that I was heartless. 'I am heartless,' I said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'" "Oh, Cora, why did you say that?" "I didn't choose to contradict my husband. Besides, it's true. Then he threw the Bradshaw away, and all the maps flew about. So I picked them up again, and said we'd go to Switzerland first. I knew that would settle it, and of course he decided on stopping at Baden. If he had said Jericho, it would have been the same thing to me. Wouldn't you like to go to Jericho?" "I should have no special objection to Jericho." "But you are to go to Baden instead." "I've said nothing about that yet. But you have not told me half your story. Why is Mr. Palliser going abroad in the middle of Parliament in this way?" "Ah; now I must go back to the beginning. And indeed, Alice, I hardly know how to tell you; not that I mind you knowing it, only there are some things that won't get themselves told. You can hardly guess what it is that he is giving up. You must swear that you won't repeat what I'm going to tell you now?" "I'm not a person apt to tell secrets, but I shan't swear anything." "What a woman you are for discretion! it is you that ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; you are so wise. Only you haven't brought your own pigs to the best market, after all." "Never mind my own pigs now, Cora." "I do mind them, very much. But the secret is this. They have asked Mr. Palliser to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he has--refused. Think of that!" "But why?" "Because of me,--of me, and my folly, and wickedness, and abominations. Because he has been fool enough to plague himself with a wife--he who of all men ought to have kept himself free from such troubles. Oh, he has been so good! It is almost impossible to make any one understand it. If you could know how he has longed for this office;--how he has worked for it day and night, wearing his eyes out with figures when everybody else has been asleep, shutting himself up with such creatures as Mr. Bott when other men have been shooting and hunting and flirting and spending their money. He has been a slave to it for years,--all his life I believe,--in order that he might sit in the Cabinet, and be a minister and a Chancellor of the Exchequer. He has hoped and feared, and has been, I believe, sometimes half-mad with expectation. This has been his excitement,--what racing and gambling are to other men. At last, the place was there, ready for him, and they offered it to him. They begged him to take it, almost on their knees. The Duke of St. Bungay was here all one morning about it; but Mr. Palliser sent him away, and refused the place. It's all over now, and the other man, whom they all hate so much, is to remain in." "But why did he refuse it?" "I keep on telling you--because of me. He found that I wanted looking after, and that Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott between them couldn't do it." "Oh, Cora! how can you talk in that way?" "If you knew all, you might well ask how I could. You remember about Lady Monk's ball, that you would not go to,--as you ought to have done. If you had gone, Mr. Palliser would have been Chancellor of the Exchequer at this minute; he would, indeed. Only think of that! But though you did not go, other people did who ought to have remained at home. I went for one,--and you know who was there for another." "What difference could that make to you?" said Alice, angrily. "It might have made a great deal of difference. And, for the matter of that, so it did. Mr. Palliser was there too, but, of course, he went away immediately. I can't tell you all the trouble there had been about Mrs. Marsham,--whether I was to take her with me or not. However, I wouldn't take her, and didn't take her. The carriage went for her first, and there she was when we got there; and Mr. Bott was there too. I wonder whether I shall ever make you understand it all." "There are some things I don't want to understand." "There they both were watching me,--looking at me the whole evening; and, of course, I resolved that I would not be put down by them." "I think, if I had been you, I would not have allowed their presence to make any difference to me." "That is very easily said, my dear, but by no means so easily done. You can't make yourself unconscious of eyes that are always looking at you. I dared them, at any rate, to do their worst, for I stood up to dance with Burgo Fitzgerald." "Oh, Cora!" "Why shouldn't I? At any rate I did; and I waltzed with him for half an hour. Alice, I never will waltz again;--never. I have done with dancing now. I don't think, even in my maddest days, I ever kept it up so long as I did then. And I knew that everybody was looking at me. It was not only Mrs. Marsham and Mr. Bott, but everybody there. I felt myself to be desperate,--mad, like a wild woman. There I was, going round and round and round with the only man for whom I ever cared two straws. It seemed as though everything had been a dream since the old days. Ah! how well I remember the first time I danced with him,--at his aunt's house in Cavendish Square. They had only just brought me out in London then, and I thought that he was a god." "Cora! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that." "I know well enough that he is no god now; some people say that he is a devil, but he was like Apollo to me then. Did you ever see anyone so beautiful as he is?" "I never saw him at all." "I wish you could have seen him; but you will some day. I don't know whether you care for men being handsome." Alice thought of John Grey, who was the handsomest man that she knew, but she made no answer. "I do; or, rather, I used to do," continued Lady Glencora. "I don't think I care much about anything now; but I don't see why handsome men should not be run after as much as handsome women." "But you wouldn't have a girl run after any man, would you; whether handsome or ugly?" "But they do, you know. When I saw him the other night he was just as handsome as ever;--the same look, half wild and half tame, like an animal you cannot catch, but which you think would love you so if you could catch him. In a little while it was just like the old time, and I had made up my mind to care nothing for the people looking at me." "And you think that was right?" "No, I don't. Yes, I do; that is. It wasn't right to care about dancing with him, but it was right to disregard all the people gaping round. What was it to them? Why should they care who I danced with?" "That is nonsense, dear, and you must know that it is so. If you were to see a woman misbehaving herself in public, would not you look on and make your comments? Could you help doing so if you were to try?" "You are very severe, Alice. Misbehaving in public!" "Yes, Cora. I am only taking your own story. According to that, you were misbehaving in public." Lady Glencora got up from her chair near the window, on which she had been crouching close to Alice's knees, and walked away towards the fireplace. "What am I to say to you, or how am I to talk to you?" said Alice. "You would not have me tell you a lie?" "Of all things in the world, I hate a prude the most," said Lady Glencora. "Cora, look here. If you consider it prudery on my part to disapprove of your waltzing with Mr. Fitzgerald in the manner you have described,--or, indeed, in any other manner,--you and I must differ so totally about the meaning of words and the nature of things that we had better part." "Alice, you are the unkindest creature that ever lived. You are as cold as stone. I sometimes think that you can have no heart." "I don't mind your saying that. Whether I have a heart or not I will leave you to find out for yourself; but I won't be called a prude by you. You know you were wrong to dance with that man. What has come of it? What have you told me yourself this morning? In order to preserve you from misery and destruction, Mr. Palliser has given up all his dearest hopes. He has had to sacrifice himself that he might save you. That, I take it, is about the truth of it,--and yet you tell me that you have done no wrong." "I never said so." Now she had come back to her chair by the window, and was again sitting in that crouching form. "I never said that I was not wrong. Of course I was wrong. I have been so wrong throughout that I have never been right yet. Let me tell it on to the end, and then you can go away if you like, and tell me that I am too wicked for your friendship." "Have I ever said anything like that, Cora?" "But you will, I dare say, when I have done. Well; what do you think my senior duenna did,--the female one, I mean? She took my own carriage, and posted off after Mr. Palliser as hard as ever she could, leaving the male duenna on the watch. I was dancing as hard as I could, but I knew what was going on all the time as well as though I had heard them talking. Of course Mr. Palliser came after me. I don't know what else he could do, unless, indeed, he had left me to my fate. He came there, and behaved so well,--so much like a perfect gentleman. Of course I went home, and I was prepared to tell him everything, if he spoke a word to me,--that I intended to leave him, and that cart-ropes should not hold me!" "To leave him, Cora!" "Yes, and go with that other man whose name you won't let me mention. I had a letter from him in my pocket asking me to go. He asked me a dozen times that night. I cannot think how it was that I did not consent." "That you did not consent to your own ruin and disgrace?" "That I did not consent to go off with him,--anywhere. Of course it would have been my own destruction. I'm not such a fool as not to know that. Do you suppose I have never thought of it;--what it would be to be a man's mistress instead of his wife. If I had not I should be a thing to be hated and despised. When once I had done it I should hate and despise myself. I should feel myself to be loathsome, and, as it were, a beast among women. But why did they not let me marry him, instead of driving me to this? And though I might have destroyed myself, I should have saved the man who is still my husband. Do you know, I told him all that,--told him that if I had gone away with Burgo Fitzgerald he would have another wife, and would have children, and would--?" "You told your husband that you had thought of leaving him?" "Yes; I told him everything. I told him that I dearly loved that poor fellow, for whom, as I believe, nobody else on earth cares a single straw." "And what did he say?" "I cannot tell you what he said, only that we are all to go to Baden together, and then to Italy. But he did not seem a bit angry; he very seldom is angry, unless at some trumpery thing, as when he threw the book away. And when I told him that he might have another wife and a child, he put his arm round me and whispered to me that he did not care so much about it as I had imagined. I felt more like loving him at that moment than I had ever done before." "He must be fit to be an angel." "He's fit to be a cabinet minister, which, I'm quite sure, he'd like much better. And now you know everything; but no,--there is one thing you don't know yet. When I tell you that, you'll want to make him an archangel or a prime minister. 'We'll go abroad,' he said,--and remember, this was his own proposition, made long before I was able to speak a word;--'We'll go abroad, and you shall get your cousin Alice to go with us.' That touched me more than anything. Only think if he had proposed Mrs. Marsham!" "But yet he does not like me." "You're wrong there, Alice. There has been no question of liking or of disliking. He thought you would be a kind of Mrs. Marsham, and when you were not, but went out flirting among the ruins with Jeffrey Palliser, instead--" "I never went out flirting with Jeffrey Palliser." "He did with you, which is all the same thing. And when Plantagenet knew of that,--for, of course, Mr. Bott told him--" "Mr. Bott can't see everything." "Those men do. The worst is, they see more than everything. But, at any rate, Mr. Palliser has got over all that now. Come, Alice; the fact of the offer having come from himself should disarm you of any such objection as that. As he has held out his hand to you, you have no alternative but to take it." "I will take his hand willingly." "And for my sake you will go with us? He understands himself that I am not fit to be his companion, and to have no companion but him. Now there is a spirit of wisdom about you that will do for him, and a spirit of folly that will suit me. I can manage to put myself on a par with a girl who has played such a wild game with her lovers as you have done." Alice would give no promise then. Her first objection was that she had undertaken to go down to Westmoreland and comfort Kate in the affliction of her broken arm. "And I must go," said Alice, remembering how necessary it was that she should plead her own cause with George Vavasor's sister. But she acknowledged that she had not intended to stay long in Westmoreland, probably not more than a week, and it was at last decided that the Pallisers should postpone their journey for four or five days, and that Alice should go with them immediately upon her return from Vavasor Hall. "I have no objection;" said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done. "I can get along in lodgings. I suppose we had better leave the house, as you have given away so much of your own fortune?" Alice did not think it worth her while to point out to him, in answer to this, that her contribution to their joint housekeeping should still remain the same as ever. Such, however, she knew would be the fact, and she knew also that she would find her father in the old house when she returned from her travels. To her, in her own great troubles, the absence from London would be as serviceable as it could be to Lady Glencora. Indeed, she had already begun to feel the impossibility of staying quietly at home. She could lecture her cousin, whose faults were open, easy to be defined, and almost loud in their nature; but she was not on that account the less aware of her own. She knew that she too had cause to be ashamed of herself. She was half afraid to show her face among her friends, and wept grievously over her own follies. Those cruel words of her father rang in her ears constantly:--"Things of that sort are so often over with you." The reproach, though cruel, was true, and what reproach more galling could be uttered to an unmarried girl such as was Alice Vavasor? She had felt from the first moment in which the proposition was made to her, that it would be well that she should for a while leave her home, and especially that drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, which told her so many tales that she would fain forget, if it were possible. Mr. Palliser would not allow his wife to remain in London for the ten or twelve days which must yet elapse before they started, nor could he send her into the country alone. He took her down to Matching Priory, having obtained leave to be absent from the House for the remainder of the Session, and remained with her there till within two days of their departure. That week down at Matching, as she afterwards told Alice, was very terrible. He never spoke a word to rebuke her. He never hinted that there had been aught in her conduct of which he had cause to complain. He treated her with a respect that was perfect, and indeed with more outward signs of affection than had ever been customary with him. "But," as Lady Glencora afterwards expressed it, "he was always looking after me. I believe he thought that Burgo Fitzgerald had hidden himself among the ruins," she said once to Alice. "He never suspected me, I am sure of that; but he thought that he ought to look after me." And Lady Glencora in this had very nearly hit the truth. Mr. Palliser had resolved, from that hour in which he had walked out among the elms in Kensington Gardens, that he would neither suspect his wife, nor treat her as though he suspected her. The blame had been his, perhaps, more than it had been hers. So much he had acknowledged to himself, thinking of the confession she had made to him before their marriage. But it was manifestly his imperative duty,--his duty of duties,--to save her from that pitfall into which, as she herself had told him, she had been so ready to fall. For her sake and for his this must be done. It was a duty so imperative, that in its performance he had found himself forced to abandon his ambition. To have his wife taken from him would be terrible, but the having it said all over the world that such a misfortune had come upon him would be almost more terrible even than that. So he went with his wife hither and thither, down at Matching, allowing himself to be driven about behind Dandy and Flirt. He himself proposed these little excursions. They were tedious to him, but doubly tedious to his wife, who now found it more difficult than ever to talk to him. She struggled to talk, and he struggled to talk, but the very struggles themselves made the thing impossible. He sat with her in the mornings, and he sat with her in the evenings; he breakfasted with her, lunched with her, and dined with her. He went to bed early, having no figures which now claimed his attention. And so the week at last wore itself away. "I saw him yawning sometimes," Lady Glencora said afterwards, "as though he would fall in pieces." CHAPTER LXIII. Mr. John Grey in Queen Anne Street. Alice was resolved that she would keep her promise to Kate, and pay her visit to Westmoreland before she started with the Pallisers. Kate had written to her three lines with her left hand, begging her to come, and those three lines had been more eloquent than anything she could have written had her right arm been uninjured. Alice had learned something of the truth as to the accident from her father; or, rather, had heard her father's surmises on the subject. She had heard, too, how her cousin George had borne himself when the will was read, and how he had afterwards disappeared, never showing himself again at the hall. After all that had passed she felt that she owed Kate some sympathy. Sympathy may, no doubt, be conveyed by letter; but there are things on which it is almost impossible for any writer to express himself with adequate feeling; and there are things, too, which can be spoken, but which cannot be written. Therefore, though the journey must be a hurried one, Alice sent word down to Westmoreland that she was to be expected there in a day or two. On her return she was to go at once to Park Lane, and sleep there for the two nights which would intervene before the departure of the Pallisers. On the day before she started for Westmoreland her father came to her in the middle of the day, and told her that John Grey was going to dine with him in Queen Anne Street on that evening. "To-day, papa?" she asked. "Yes, to-day. Why not? No man is less particular as to what he eats than Grey." "I was not thinking of that, papa," she said. To this Mr. Vavasor made no reply, but stood for some minutes looking out of the window. Then he prepared to leave the room, getting himself first as far as the table, where he lifted a book, and then on half-way to the door before Alice arrested him. "Perhaps, papa, you and Mr. Grey had better dine alone." "What do you mean by alone?" "I meant without me,--as two men generally like to do." "If I wanted that I should have asked him to dine at the club," said Mr. Vavasor, and then he again attempted to go. "But, papa--" "Well, my dear! If you mean to say that because of what has passed you object to meet Mr. Grey, I can only tell you it's nonsense,--confounded nonsense. If he chooses to come there can be no reason why you shouldn't receive him." "It will look as though--" "Look what?" "As though he were asked as my guest." "That's nonsense. I saw him yesterday, and I asked him to come. I saw him again to-day, and he said he would come. He's not such a fool as to suppose after that, that you asked him." "No; not that I asked him." "And if you run away you'll only make more of the thing than it's worth. Of course I can't make you dine with me if you don't like." Alice did not like it, but, after some consideration, she thought that she might be open to the imputation of having made more of the thing than it was worth if she ran away, as her father called it. She was going to leave the country for some six or eight months,--perhaps for a longer time than that, and it might be as well that she should have an opportunity of telling her plans to Mr. Grey. She could do it, she thought, in such a way as to make him understand that her last quarrel with George Vavasor was not supposed to alter the footing on which she stood with him. She did not doubt that her father had told everything to Mr. Grey. She knew well enough what her father's wishes still were. It was not odd that he should be asking John Grey to his house, though such exercises of domestic hospitality were very unusual with him. But,--so she declared to herself,--such little attempts on his part would be altogether thrown away. It was a pity that he had not yet learned to know her better. She would receive Mr. Grey as the mistress of her father's house now, for the last time; and then, on her return in the following year, he would be at Nethercoats, and the whole thing would be over. She dressed herself very plainly, simply changing one black frock for another, and then sat herself in her drawing-room awaiting the two gentlemen. It was already past the hour of dinner before her father came up-stairs. She knew that he was in the house, and in her heart she accused him of keeping out of the way, in order that John Grey might be alone with her. Whether or no she were right in her suspicions John Grey did not take advantage of the opportunity offered to him. Her father came up first, and had seated himself silently in his arm-chair before the visitor was announced. As Mr. Grey entered the room Alice knew that she was flurried, but still she managed to carry herself with some dignity. His bearing was perfect. But then, as she declared to herself afterwards, no possible position in life would put him beside himself. He came up to her with his usual quiet smile,--a smile that was genial even in its quietness, and took her hand. He took it fairly and fully into his; but there was no squeezing, no special pressure, no love-making. And when he spoke to her he called her Alice, as though his doing so was of all things the most simply a matter of course. There was no tell-tale hesitation in his voice. When did he ever hesitate at anything? "I hear you are going abroad," he said, "with your cousin, Lady Glencora Palliser." [Illustration: She managed to carry herself with some dignity.] "Yes," said Alice; "I am going with them for a long tour. We shall not return, I fancy, till the end of next winter." "Plans of that sort are as easily broken as they are made," said her father. "You won't be your own mistress; and I advise you not to count too surely upon getting further than Baden." "If Mr. Palliser changes his mind of course I shall come home," said Alice, with a little attempt at a smile. "I should think him a man not prone to changes," said Grey. "But all London is talking about his change of mind at this moment. They say at the clubs that he might have

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

day

How many times the word 'day' appears in the text?

Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

wrings

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Amour Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS AMOUR Written by Michael Haneke SCENE 1 - INT. APARTMENT - DAY The hallway is a mess. A window opening onto a light well is open. The door to the apartment is suddenly broken open. A plain- clothes detective, two uniformed police officers and several firemen - also in uniform - enter and look around. They all wear gloves and masks that cover their mouths and noses. Behind them, the superintendent and his wife also push their way in. They're both holding their noses. In his free hand, the superintendent holds a pile of mail and promotional flyers. Behind him, comes a female neighbor. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the superintendent and the NEIGHBOR) Wait Outside please. He signals to a police officer who herds the curious onlookers back out through the door. POLICE OFFICER (to the superintendent, pointing to a pile of mail) What's the date of the last letter? SUPERINTENDENT (VERIFYING) The 16th from what I can see... Wait... The plain-clothes detective has tried in vain to open the door on the left. It has been sealed up with adhesive tape. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the fire officer) Can you try? While the firemen go to work on the door, the plain-clothes detective goes into the adjoining dining room. He opens the windows quickly and turns to go into the room to the left via the double doors. They are locked and the gaps are also taped up. He turns to the right and goes into the living room, where he also opens up the windows... FIREMAN (O.S.) The door is open. ...and comes back into the hallway, passing by the waiting firemen. Once again, we hear snatches of dialogue between the police officer and the janitor. 2. JANITOR ...no as far as I know. During the whole time, they had a nurse, but it's been a while since I last saw her. My wife has been... The plain-clothes detective enters the bedroom which is now accessible. Its windows are open and the draft makes the curtains billow into the room. PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE (to the firemen who are now curious enough to come and stand by the DOOR) Did you open the windows? The firemen shake their heads. The PLAIN-CLOTHES DETECTIVE turns toward the big double bed placed against the back wall of the bedroom. On the right- hand bed, there's only the bare mattress. On the left-hand bed lies the partly decomposed body of an old woman. Where once there were eyes, now there are only gaping holes. The corpse has been neatly dressed and is adorned with flowers that have already dried out a little. On her chest is a crucifix. SCENE 2 - White letters on a black background: THE CREDITS SCENE 3 - INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT All we see is the audience pouring into the hall. GEORGES and ANNE, both are around eighty, are part of this crowd. They go to their seats in one of the rows near the front. Once everybody is seated, we hear the usual ANNOUNCEMENT asking people to turn off their mobile phones. Some people, caught with their phones switched on, hasten to comply. Then the lights go out. APPLAUSE. Off-screen, we hear the soloist make his entrance. THROATS ARE CLEARED here and there. Finally, the MUSIC begins. SCENE 4 - INT. ARTISTS DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT The music from Scene 3 continues. The soloist is surrounded by admirers who congratulate him. Now Georges and Anne push their way into the room. (If the soloist is female, they will be carrying flowers, like most of the others). 3. When the soloist notices their presence, he leaves his group of fans, heads towards them and greets them very warmly, visibly glad to see them. SCENE 5 - INT. BUS - NIGHT Continuation of the MUSIC from Scene 3. Georges and Anne are seated side by side in the half empty bus. Anne talks enthusiastically, Georges says something from time to time, and smiles now and then. They are both relaxed and happy. SCENE 6 - INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - NIGHT The door to the apartment is unlocked and opened from the outside. THE MUSIC ENDS. Georges comes in, turns on the light. He and Anne observe the open door. Around the lock, one can see the traces of an attempted forced entry. Georges bends down and runs his fingers over the deep grooves. GEORGES They used a screwdriver or something like that...it doesn't look very professional... ANNE But who would do something like that? GEORGES No idea. Why do people break in? Because they want to steal something. ANNE From us? GEORGES (laughs briefly out loud) Hey, why not? If I thought about it, I could come up with at least three or four people we know who've been burgled. After having examined the outside of the second leaf of the double door, he comes in, closing the door behind him. 4. ANNE What time is it? Can't we call the superintendent? GEORGES I'll do that tomorrow morning. Anyway, they didn't see anything. He unbuttons his overcoat and heads toward the large closet in the hallway. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't let it spoil your good mood now. ANNE Or the police? GEORGES Come on, give me your coat. She goes toward him, he takes her coat off and hangs it with his in the closet. ANNE Imagine if we were here, in our beds, and someone broke in. GEORGES Why should I imagine that? ANNE But it's terrible! I think I'd die of fright. GEORGES (LAUGHING) So would I. He undoes his shoes. GEORGES (CONT'D) Shall we have a drink? ANNE I'm tired. GEORGES I still fancy a drink. He puts away his shoes with the others and slips on his slippers. Anne has gone into the bathroom. 5. ANNE (O.S.) Go ahead then. Mathilde told me that in her building, the attic apartment was burgled from the loft. They just knocked a hole in the wall, cut out all of the valuable pictures from their frames and disappeared without a trace. He goes toward the kitchen. GEORGES They must have been professionals. As he passes in front of the bathroom, he stops and appears to be looking at Anne. GEORGES (CONT'D) Did I tell you, you looked good tonight? SHORT PAUSE. THEN: ANNE (O.S.) (FLATTERED) What's got into you? With a gentle LAUGH, Georges disappears into the kitchen, where he turns on the lights. We hear him FIDDLING AROUND, apparently getting a glass and some wine. After a short PAUSE: ANNE (CONT'D) Weren't those semiquavers in the presto incredible? What staccato! Don't you agree? Short PAUSE. GEORGES (O.S.) You're proud of him, huh? SCENE 7 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Georges wakes up. He looks with amazement beside him, then raises his eyes. Anne is sitting upright, her back against the headboard. GEORGES (CONT'D) Something wrong? ANNE No. 6. After a while, the RINGING of a kitchen egg-timer leads us to the next scene. SCENE 8 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The egg timer in the kitchen RINGS. Georges is seated in front of the window, at a table which is half set for breakfast. He has mobile phone raised to his ear and a phone book opened in front of him. Anne is getting up from the table. She goes toward the stove, turns off the gas, takes the egg out of the pan with a spoon and runs it under cold water. Like Georges, she is still in her robe. GEORGES (on the phone) What about next week? No but still, it would make sense to get it done soon. It might give people silly ideas. And anyway, it's too ugly to look at... Wednesday? What time? OK... Will you bring the paint with you too, to paint over it? But at least some primer...Yes, OK. Thank you. He hangs up. GEORGES (CONT'D) (TO ANNE) You can depend on that guy. ANNE (who comes back to the table with the egg) I hope so. The last time, he kept us waiting for ages, if you remember. GEORGES (laughs while acquiescing) Yes, that's true. (Reacting when she places the egg in his egg cup) Thanks. If I call a regular professional, we'll still be waiting two months time. ANNE (more to herself) Really? She has sat down. Looks straight ahead. He cracks open his egg, puts salt on it, eats. 7. GEORGES The Frodons waited three days when their toilet was blocked. Not exactly pleasant. He eats. Wants to put on more salt, but the saltcellar is empty. GEORGES (CONT'D) The saltcellar is empty. He looks up for an instant, as if he expected her to deal with it. As she doesn't react, he realizes the inappropriateness of such an expectation, gets up himself, heads for the kitchen cupboards and fills the salt cellar. GEORGES (CONT'D) I don't know if he's going to bring us the CD. Maybe he won't come at all. In any case, he didn't mention it. I'd like to buy it. It was really good and I don't want to wait long for it. We could go to Virgin this afternoon and buy it. What do you say? He comes back to the table and sits down again. GEORGES (CONT'D) Hmmm? Anne? What's the matter? She looks at him and doesn't answer. GEORGES (CONT'D) What's going on? What's the matter? He waves his hand in front of her eyes and laughs nervously. GEORGES (CONT'D) Helllloooo!!! Cuckoo!!! I'm here! She continues to look at him without reacting. GEORGES (CONT'D) (serious now) Anne! What's going on? He waits, looks at her. No reaction. He stands up slightly, leans over the table to sit beside her. Tries to make her turn toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne, what's the matter? 8. He manages to get her torso to turn halfway toward him, but her eyes look through him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne...what's... He takes her face in both hands and turns toward him. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne... She stares into the void. He drops his hands. Then sits beside her, for quite awhile. SILENCE Finally he gets up, heads for the sink, turns on the tap, wets a tea towel, wrings it out a little, comes back and places it on Anne's face. Waits for a reaction that doesn't come. Then he pulls up her hair in the nape of her neck and applies the cloth there. Then sits down and looks at her imploringly. GEORGES (CONT'D) (close to tears) Anne...Darling...please! Once again they both remain seated. In the background, we hear the GUSHING of the tap that in his panic he has forgotten to turn it off. Making a sudden decision, he gets up, rapidly crossing the hallway, he goes into the bedroom where he starts to dress agitatedly, which takes him quite a lot of time. Suddenly, the GUSHING of the tap stops, which had accompanied us as far as the bedroom. George doesn't notice it immediately, then he stops short. GEORGES (CONT'D) Anne? Finally he returns, half dressed, into the kitchen. Anne is seated in the same place and looks at him. ANNE What are you doing? She turns toward the breakfast. ANNE (CONT'D) You left the water running. 9. Georges stares at her. GEORGES (both aghast and furious) Hey, what's going on? Are you completely crazy? Is this supposed to be a joke, or what's going on? She looks at him with amazement. ANNE What did you say? GEORGES (SERIOUSLY) Is this a joke? Is this meant to be a joke? ANNE What joke? I don't get it! Why are you talking to me like that? What's got into you? Georges comes from the door to the table. GEORGES Anne! Please! Stop this game. It's not funny. ANNE (GETTING IRRITATED) What game, for Christ's sake? What on earth's the matter?!! Georges is about to answer in a similarly irritated tone, but gradually begins to suspect that he could be mistaken. He tries to calm down, takes his chair that has remained beside Anne, sits down and looks at his wife. She doesn't know how to react. GEORGES What's the matter? Why didn't you react? ANNE To what? GEORGES To what? To me, to everything. ANNE When? 10. GEORGES Just now. A moment ago. ANNE Please tell me what's wrong. What am I supposed to have done? Georges first looks away reluctantly, then looks at Anne. He doesn't want to believe that its serious. GEORGES I don't know what to say. Do you really not know what just happened? ANNE But what DID happen? GEORGES (almost reluctantly bowing his head as he speaks) You were sitting there, staring at me. You didn't answer me when I asked you what the matter was. He picks up the wet tea towel from the table. GEORGES (CONT'D) I put this tea towel on your face, and you didn't react. Anne looks at the towel, then at Georges, and shakes her head, perturbed that she can't understand. Georges looks at her. He sees the damp marks on the collar of her robe. GEORGES (CONT'D) Look... There's still dampness on your collar. Anne follows his gesture, tugs on her collar and sees the damp marks. She slowly grasps that something is awry. ANNE When... When was it? GEORGES Just now, a few minutes ago. ANNE So...?? GEORGES There's no "So". I went into the bedroom to get dressed. I wanted to get help. 11. ANNE Help? GEORGES Yes, and then you turned off the tap. ANNE Yes. Because you left it on. SILENCE ANNE (CONT'D) I don't understand. GEORGES Neither do I. PAUSE. GEORGES (CONT'D) Don't you think it's best if I call Dr. Bertier? ANNE Why? What can he do? GEORGES I don't know. Examine you. ANNE I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. GEORGES Anne, please!! That's absurd. We can't pretend that nothing happened. ANNE But what DID happen? PAUSE. ANNE (CONT'D) I'm here. I'm having my breakfast, and you're telling me things happened that I don't understand. GEORGES Can you explain how the tea towel got there? 12. ANNE (IRRITATED) No, I can't! GEORGES Who turned on the tap? ANNE You did! GEORGES Can you remember that? ANNE (more and more desperate, close to tears) No I can't! Do you want to torture me? Leave me in peace! Georges looks at her. GEORGES Don't you think it would be better to fetch Dr. Bertier? ANNE No! She takes her cup of tea, as if to show how well she is, and drinks it up. When she wants to re-fill her cup, she completely misses her aim. She notices it, puts down her cup and bursts into tears. SCENE 9 - INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT SILENCE We see wide shots of the apartment. The hallway. The bedroom. The living room. The dining room. The kitchen. Nobody in sight. SCENE 10 - INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY EVA, around 50, has come to pay a visit. Anne isn't there. EVA You know how he is. Once he's got something into his head, he has to go through with it. In the end, everybody was delighted. And besides, it didn't hurt our financial situation. We're playing until the 28th. (MORE) 13. EVA (CONT'D) Then we have 10 days to rest, then we go to Stockholm for four days, and then to Kumo in Finland. Heaven knows where that is. At the North Pole. But Geoff's already been there few times, and he loves it. We're playing the "Dowland Transcriptions" there and then we're back in London. GEORGES What about the children? EVA Liz is at boarding school and John is living his own life. He's twenty- six years old. GEORGES What does he do? EVA He's a student. We rarely see him. He's got his own ideas. Life Geoff. They don't really get along. Geoff wants to advise him on everything, and John doesn't like that at all. GEORGES Is he good? EVA I think so. He's less impulsive. Very industrious. GEORGES That sounds rather derogatory. EVA No!! He's not like Geoff. Quiet, but stubborn. I think he'll do all right. At the last Conservatory concert, he played the solo part in the Haydn Concerto. It was very good. Geoff was there and congratulated him at the end. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES And you? EVA What do you mean? 14. GEORGES Did you both make up? EVA (with a little laugh) My God, you know him, don't you? Over the winter, he suddenly discovered his passion for a viola player who'd been in our ensemble for years. What can I tell you? It was a huge drama, and the poor little darling wound up trying to commit suicide. That scared him and he came back to me in full remorse. I've got used to it now. What's a bit embarrassing is that the ensemble, you can't keep any secrets from anyone. GEORGES Do you love him? EVA Yes, I think so. Brief PAUSE. EVA (CONT'D) What's aphasia? Georges gestures that it's too complicated. GEORGES What can I say? The carotid artery was blocked. They did an ultrasound scan, two in fact, and they said they had to operate on her. She was scared. She was confused and scared. You know she has always been afraid of doctors. They said the risk was very low and that if they didn't operate, she'd be certain to have a serious stroke. EVA And what do they say now? GEORGES Just that it didn't go well. It's one of the 5% that go wrong. He yawns. 15. GEORGES (CONT'D) It's pretty upsetting. He looks at his watch. GEORGES (CONT'D) Usually at this time, I take a nap. My blood sugar is somewhere down in my socks. PAUSE. EVA I'm so sorry. GEORGES Yeah. PAUSE. EVA What can I do for you? GEORGES Nothing. It was nice of you to come despite all of your stress. Brief PAUSE. She doesn't know what to say. GEORGES (CONT'D) No, really. There's nothing you can do. We'll see how things go when she's back here in the apartment. We'll manage. Maybe I'll get a caretaker in, or maybe I'll manage on my own. We'll see. We've been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I. (LITTLE LAUGH) All this is still a bit new. PAUSE. EVA (with a little laugh) It's funny. I don't know if I should say it. Maybe it'll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. (MORE) 16. EVA (CONT'D) For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we'd always be together. SCENE 11 - INT. BEDROOM - DAY A carpenter and his assistant are raising the base of the double bed. Georges watches. SCENE 12 - INT. HALLWAY - LIVING ROOM - DAY The door of the apartment is opened. Georges comes in. Behind him is Anne in a wheelchair, pushed by a paramedic. A second paramedic (as young as the first) follows with a suitcase and a large bag. Behind them, the superintendent. Georges tries to rid of the three as quickly as possible. He stuffs a twenty euro note into the hand of the first paramedic. GEORGES Here. Thank you very much. It's for both of you. You can just put the things down here. There, beside the window, right. We'll be okay on our own. Thanks a lot. The two paramedics exchange a brief glance, say thanks, and leave the apartment, passing the superintendent as they go. GEORGES (CONT'D) (to the superintendent) Thank you, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT If you need anything, just call downstairs. If we can help at all... GEORGES Right now everything's fine. I'll let your wife know as soon as we need anything. SUPERINTENDENT (TO ANNE) It's nice to have you back, Mrs. Laurent. ANNE Yes. Thank you, Mr. Mery. Thank you. 17. The superintendent hesitates another moment. ANNE (CONT'D) Yes, thanks. SUPERINTENDENT Yes... So... Goodbye then, ma'am. Welcome home again. Goodbye, Sir. GEORGES Goodbye, Mr. Mery. SUPERINTENDENT Goodbye. He leaves the apartment. There is a brief moment of perplexity. Then Georges says: GEORGES (with a nervous smile) Where do you want... ANNE In the living room. Georges pushes her toward the living room door, walks around the wheelchair, opens the door, comes back behind the wheelchair and pushes Anne into the LIVING ROOM. The doorway is narrow. The wheelchair only just passes through it. Georges pushes Anne toward the sofa and the armchairs and then steps in front of her. GEORGES Shall I make some tea? ANNE (with a faint smile) First come sit with me. George registers her smile; he knows he's behaving in a clumsy way. He sits down in one of the two arm chairs. ANNE (CONT'D) Can you help me into the chair? Georges stands back up. GEORGES (EAGERLY) Of course. 18. He extends his hands. She puts on the wheelchair brake, lifts the footrest with her left foot, raises her right leg from the footrest with her left hand and then extends her left arm to Georges. ANNE It's best if you put my arm around your neck and your right arm around me, that way it'll be easy. He does as he is told, pulls her up as they hobble together the short distance to the second arm chair. Cautiously, he lowers her down and helps her sit herself straight. Because they are not used to it, the whole process appears awkward and clumsy. ANNE (CONT'D) Thanks. He smiles because it seems silly to him to answer "Don't mention it". Then he sits down opposite her. LONG PAUSE. At first they are both ill at ease, but then they accept the fact that words do not come easily. After a long while, during which we hear the intermittent sound of the TRAFFIC below. GEORGES (softly almost to himself) I'm glad you're back. ANNE (in a voice just as soft) Me too. Another PAUSE. Then Anne says: ANNE (CONT'D) Promise me one thing. GEORGES What? ANNE Please never take me back to the hospital. GEORGES What? PAUSE. 19. She looks at him. He has understood. ANNE You promise? GEORGES Anne... ANNE You promise? PAUSE. GEORGES Anne, I... ANNE Don't talk right now. And don't give me any lectures. Please. Brief PAUSE. GEORGES What can I say, it's... ANNE (INTERRUPTING HIM) Nothing. Just don't say anything. OK?! PAUSE. SCENE 13 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT He helps her into bed, then throws the blanket over her. GEORGES There. ANNE Thank you. Thank you, Darling. GEORGES Everything OK? ANNE (SMILING) Everything's fine. He hesitates. 20. ANNE (CONT'D) You don't have to hold my hand all the time now. I can look after myself, you know. He nods. ANNE (CONT'D) And don't feel guilty. That would be pointless. And a drag. For me too. GEORGES I don't feel guilty. ANNE That's good. She smiles. ANNE (CONT'D) Go over there now. I'm not a cripple. You can easily leave me alone for two minutes. I won't collapse. GEORGES (with a slight smile) OK. ANNE Did you buy the new book on Harnoncourt? GEORGES I've already read it. ANNE And? GEORGES Do you want it? I'll get it for you. ANNE Sure. He goes out of the room to fetch the book. She remains lying there, waiting, and runs her healthy left hand through her hair to make herself look prettier, then smooths out the blanket that has slipped out of place a little. After a while, we hear Georges shouting. 21. GEORGES (O.S.) I don't know where I put it. ANNE Don't worry. It isn't that important. GEORGES (O.S.) Yes, it is. Hold on, maybe it's in the... Just a moment! Viola! Here you are! Nothing like an infallible memory! She smiles, looks in his direction. He enters with the book in his hand. GEORGES (CONT'D) I thought I'd left it over there in the other room, but I'd already put it away. Tidy people just can't help being tidy. ANNE (taking the book) Thanks. She puts the book on her stomach. Looks at Georges. ANNE (CONT'D) Right now, take care of yourself. And don't wait to see how I hold the book in my hand, OK? GEORGES OK. He looks at her for a moment longer, then leaves the bedroom. She waits till he's outside. Tries to relax. Then she remembers the book. She takes it in her left hand and tries to open it. It's not easy for her. Then she notices that she's forgotten her glasses. She rests the book back on the bed cover and fishes for her glasses on the night stand. In the end, she manages it. Then she opens the book again, and tries to read. SCENE 14 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The superintendent's wife puts the filled supermarket bags on the counter. Takes the stack of mail that she had put on top of one of the bags and puts it down beside them. Then she takes out the receipt and the change. 22. SUPERINTENDANT'S WIFE Unfortunately the strawberries were already moldy. I'll go and get you some fresh ones tomorrow from the market. My husband will bring you the bottled water this afternoon. I'm not supposed to carry anything heavy: my back, you know... GEORGES Sure, no problem. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE It came to 76 euros and 40 cents. There's the till receipt and here's your change: 23 euros 60. GEORGES Thank you very much. Keep the change. Thanks. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Thank you, sir. Short embarrassed PAUSE. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) Well, I'll be off. Call me if you need anything else. GEORGES Yes. I will. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Is your wife well? ... GEORGES Yes, she's OK. She's recovering. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Fine. Give her my regards. My husband and I are very glad she's back. GEORGES Yes, we are too. Bye, Mrs. M ry, thanks so much. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE Goodbye, sir. She heads toward the front door of the apartment, turns around again toward Georges. 23. SUPERINTENDENT'S WIFE (CONT'D) I'll bring you the strawberries tomorrow around noon, if that suits you. He nods, she closes the door as she leaves. SCENE 15 - INT. HALLWAY - TOILET - DAY He stands in front of the closed door of the toilet, waiting. After a while, we hear the noise of flushing. After a while longer, we hear ANNE (O.S.) There. Can you come in, please? He opens the toilet door, goes around Anne, pulls her up, she puts her left arm around his neck, keeps herself upright that way, he pulls up her pants under her skirt. Then they slowly hobble out of the toilet and he sits her back down in the wheelchair. SCENE 16 - INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT They are both lying in their beds. Anne sleeps, BREATHING NOISILY. Georges lies with his eyes open, listening attentively to her breathing. SCENE 17 - INT. KITCHEN - DAY The sun shines in. Georges has cooked something simple. They are both in a good mood, eating and drinking. GEORGES ... some banal romance or other about a nobleman and a lower middle- class girl who couldn't have each other and who then, out of sheer magnanimity, decide to renounce their love - in fact I don't quite remember it any more. In any case, afterwards I was thoroughly distraught, and it took me a bit of time to calm down. In the courtyard of the house where grandma lived, there was a young guy at the window who asked me where I'd been. He was a couple of years older than me, a braggart who of course really impressed me. "To the movies", I said, because I was proud that my grandma had given me the money to go all alone to the cinema. (MORE) 24. GEORGES (CONT'D) "What did you see?" I started to tell him the story of the movie, and as I did, all the emotion came back. I didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but it was impossible; there I was, crying out loud in the courtyard, and I told him the whole drama to the bitter end. ANNE So? How did he react? GEORGES No idea. He probably found it amusing. I don't remember. I don't remember the film either. But I remember the feeling. That I was ashamed of crying, but that telling him the story made all my feelings and tears come back, almost more powerfully than when I was actually watching the film, and that I just couldn't stop. She looks at him, smiles, then turns back to her food. ANNE That's cute. Why didn't you ever tell me before? GEORGES There are still a few stories you don't know. ANNE Aha...? Don't tell me you're going to ruin your image in your old age? GEORGES (GRINNING) You bet I won't. But what is my image? She takes a mouthful, eats

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

bite

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

openings

How many times the word 'openings' appears in the text?

Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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How many times the word 'seven' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Analyze That Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

complacency

How many times the word 'complacency' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS ANALYZE THAT Screenplay by PETER STEINFELD and HAROLD RAMIS and PETER TOLAN Based on characters created by KENNETH LONERGAN and PETER TOLAN June 2002 Draft FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY FADE IN: INT. DIMLY-LIT BAR - NIGHT Two men, CAESAR and MARTY "DUCKS," stand at the end of the deserted bar, talking quietly, oblivious to the exotic dancer grinding her pelvis on a pole in the middle of the small stage. Body language and charisma tell us that Caesar is the boss, "Ducks" his lieutenant. DUCKS It's Peezee. Gotta be. He hates your fuckin' guts. CAESAR (brooding) I don't know. DUCKS Who else knew about the money? And how did Peezee know they popped Tony Cisco when we didn't even hear about it 'til last night? CAESAR (sighs heavily) I don't know. DUCKS (pressing) What is so hard to understand here? You said yourself Peezee was a mamaluke and you couldn't trust him. Now suddenly you're soft on the guy? CAESAR I just don't think it was him. DUCKS Okay, I'll bite. If not Peezee, then who? CAESAR (slowly rising to his full height) I think it was you, Ducks. Caesar starts to walk away as the bartender, now holding a sawed-off shotgun, moves closer to Ducks. The exotic dancer splits in a hurry through a curtain at the back of the stage. DUCKS (scared) You gotta be kiddin'! Caesar stops at the door where two of his soldiers have 2. appeared, holding AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. DUCKS Caesar, you know me! What kind of fuckin' idiot would I have to be to try that shit with you? CAESAR A dead fuckin' idiot. As he walks out the door, the soldiers OPEN FIRE on Marty "Ducks." Caesar doesn't look back. PULL BACK TO: TV SCREEN The title credits come up on the made-for-cable series we've been watching, "Little Caesar." CLAPPING AND CHEERING from O.S. WIDEN TO: INT. SING SING PRISON - NIGHT Maximum-security prisoners are gathered around watching their favorite show in the rec room. In the front row is PAUL VITTI, former New York crime boss, and a couple of other wiseguys. VITTI Garbage. Change the channel. WISEGUY Okay, Paul. The WISEGUY gets up and starts switching channels on the TV. A couple of CONVICTS in the back start to protest. CONVICT Hey! What're you doin', asshole! Vitti turns and stares at them. They fall silent immediately. CONVICT Sorry, Mr. Vitti. Didn't mean any disrespect. WISEGUY Punks. Vitti turns the page and sees a huge headline in the Post: MOB SHRINK TELLS ALL. He gets up, agitated. 3. VITTI I'm going to bed. Vitti stands up and heads back to his cell. CUT TO: INT. CELL BLOCK - MOMENTS LATER As Vitti approaches his cell, he sees a prison guard standing by. His cellmate, EARL, a giant of a man, comes out of their cell carrying his bedroll and a box containing his other meager possessions. VITTI (suspicious) What's goin' on, Earl? EARL They're transferring me. VITTI Why? EARL (shrugs) Don't know. Thanks for looking out for me, Mr. Vitti. VITTI Yeah. Take it easy. He notices something in the box. VITTI Hey, Earl. Is that my after-shave? EARL (blanches) I'm sorry. I just grabbed stuff -- I didn't know -- VITTI That's okay. Keep it. Go ahead. EARL Thanks. See you around. Earl exits with the guard. Vitti hesitates a moment, then warily steps into his cell. CUT TO: INT. VITTI'S CELL - MIDDLE OF NIGHT The cellblock is quiet. A guard stops outside the darkened cell, looks around to make sure no one is watching, then 4. pulls out a GUN with a SILENCER, reaches through the bars and FIRES REPEATEDLY into Vitti's shadowy form under the blanket. Then he slips away as quietly as he appeared. ON his exit we PAN DOWN TO Vitti, unhurt, curled up under his bunk. CUT TO: INT. MEMORIAL CHAPEL - DAY A deluxe casket flanked by elaborate floral displays and an easel displaying a portrait of the deceased, Dr. Isaac Sobel. Mourners fill the pews, standees at the back, an overflow crowd. BEN SOBEL sits in the front row, staring at the casket with his wife, LAURA, his son, MICHAEL, now a teenager, BEN'S MOTHER, and her friend, DR. JOYCE BROTHERS. At the podium, the RABBI is speaking. RABBI And now I'd like to call on Isaac's son, Dr. Ben Sobel, who would like to say a few words. Ben rises and crosses solemnly to the podium. BEN (addressing audience) It's very difficult for me to talk about my father, because in a sense I'm talking about two men. BEN (CONT'D) One, of course, is the public Isaac Sobel, the eminent psychotherapist and popular author known to millions of readers around the world. Laura, Michael and Ben's Mother listen proudly to the eulogy. BEN The second Isaac Sobel is the private man -- my father -- Dad. And for those of you who knew him well and knew our family -- well, let's face it -- my father was a psychotic, mind- fucking prick. An arrogant, abusive, ego-inflated -- A RINGING CELL PHONE interrupts him. JUMP CUT TO: BEN 5. still seated in the front row, daydreaming. The RINGING CONTINUES as all the mourners and even the Rabbi discreetly check their cell phones. Then Ben realizes it's his, fumbles for the phone in his jacket pocket and answers it. BEN (whispers) Hello? The mourners mutter. CUT TO: INT. PRISON PAY PHONE - SAME TIME VITTI Guess who, you fuck! INTERCUT WITH: INT. CHAPEL Ben turns away from Laura. BEN Paul? (to Laura) I have to, uh, take this. (into phone) This isn't a good time. Vitti is disheveled, his hair messed, his shirt buttoned wrong. VITTI Not a good time? Let me explain something to you. I'm in fucking Hell right now. This is not a good time. BEN (sotto voce) I can't talk right now. My father died! VITTI So what does that have to do with me? BEN Call me later -- VITTI Don't hang up on, Sobel! They're tryin' to kill me! 6. Ben hangs up. CUT BACK TO: VITTI He stands there for a long beat just staring, the DIAL TONE BUZZING in his ear. CUT TO: INT. SING SING - MESS HALL - NEXT DAY Vitti and another WISEGUY pass through the cafeteria line with their trays. Vitti now looks catatonic. WISEGUY #2 Ooh, they got tapioca. I love tapioca. (looks at Vitti) You all right, Paul? Vitti just stares, wild-eyed, actually drooling a little. WISEGUY #2 Can I have your tapioca? A guard, the one who tried to kill him, watches Vitti from his post. Then he nods to someone across the room. COYOTE, a heavily-muscled and tattooed gang member, nods in response. Vitti walks past the table where Coyote is sitting with other tough Hispanic gang members. COYOTE (to Vitti) Hey, Fredo! Or is it Guido? His friends laugh. Vitti stops and stares dumbly at them. COYOTE Just keep walkin', Don Corleone. There is a tense moment, then Vitti bursts out laughing. COYOTE Shut up! Vitti laughs harder, strangely manic. COYOTE I said, shut up, bitch! 7. But Vitti can't stop. He drops his tray of slop, splattering food on the men. Coyote leaps to his feet and pulls a shiv. COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote lunges at Vitti with the knife, but Vitti suddenly whirls around, bashes Coyote in the face with his food tray and bursts into song. VITTI (singing, with appropriate dance moves) 'When you're a Jet, You're a Jet all the way, From your first cigarette To your last dyin' day...' Prisoners and guards stare at him like he's nuts. Coyote stabs at him again, but Vitti dodges and smashes him over the head with the tray. VITTI 'When you're a Jet, If the shit hits the fan, You got brothers around, You're a family man...' COYOTE You're a dead man, jefe! Coyote rushes him, but Vitti sidesteps and hits him in the face. Guards move in from all sides. Vitti jumps up on the tabletop to escape them. VITTI (kicking at them, singing) 'I like to be in America, Okay by me in America...' The guards drag him down and cuff his hands behind him, then carry him out stiff as a board. VITTI 'Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night -- ' DISSOLVE TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER A limo pulls up to an old, but well-maintained suburban house, the family gets out and starts walking to the house. 8. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - FRONT PORCH - MOMENTS LATER The family crosses to the front door. BEN (sighs deeply) I can't believe he's gone. LAURA I can't believe what you said about him. Cold and withholding? You had to tell everybody? MICHAEL Nice. Why didn't you just take a swing at the casket? Ben opens the front door and they go in. CUT TO: INT. FOYER - CONTINUOUS ACTION The family enters the foyer. BEN Okay, I might have strayed from my notes a little. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff here. Grief is a process. Laura notices FBI AGENTS CERRONE and MILLER waiting for them in the living room. Cerrone is an attractive woman in her late twenties, wearing a dangerously-short skirt. Miller is a clean-cut man in his thirties. MILLER Dr. Sobel, I'm Agent Miller, this is Special Agent Cerrone, Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, if we could. LAURA (testy) Can I ask what this is about? We just came from the cemetery. CERRONE We know this is a difficult time for you, Dr. Sobel. Sorry about your father. BEN Thank you, I'm going to miss him 9. terribly. Ben gestures for them to sit. Laura and Michael both look at him doubtfully. BEN I mean -- there were issues -- as, I think, there are with any father and son. He wasn't especially warm -- LAURA Ben -- once today? Enough. BEN No, I'm just saying, in spite of all that -- Agent Cerrone crosses her legs, a move that does not go unnoticed by Ben and Michael. BEN -- he was a great, great legs. (beat) Man. CERRONE Dr. Sobel, you received a call this morning from Paul Vitti? Laura shoots him a look. BEN What makes you think Paul Vitti called me? MILLER Because we monitor and record all his phone calls from Sing Sing. BEN Then yes. He did. LAURA That was him on the phone? BEN Yes. LAURA And you didn't tell me? MICHAEL Wow. Talk about withholding. BEN Michael? 10. LAURA You told her -- (nodding at Agent Cerrone) You told her at the drop of a hat. Agents Cerrone and Miller eye each other. BEN She's with the F.B.I. She needs to know these things. LAURA Oh, I see. And I don't. Why tell Laura? She couldn't possibly handle a phone call. BEN Did I say that? MILLER You folks need a minute? BEN No, we're fine. LAURA If you don't need me anymore, I'll be in the kitchen. (to Agent Cerrone) And two words of advice -- from one professional woman to another -- Pant. Suit. She exits. BEN She's grieving. It's a process. MILLER We understand. (prompting) Vitti? BEN Oh, yes. Paul Vitti and I were involved in some organized crime activity a couple of years ago. I mean, I wasn't involved -- not 'involved' involved -- I was just trying to help him therapeutically, and some people tried to, uh, kill us. No big deal. MILLER Well, shortly after you spoke, he 11. seemed to have some kind of breakdown. BEN What kind of breakdown? MILLER I think you'd better go up there and see for yourself. CUT TO: INT. SING SING INFIRMARY - PSYCH WARD - DAY Vitti huddles in the corner of a bare, white, padded cell, rocking, completely out of his head. VITTI (singing) 'I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright...' INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - SAME TIME Ben watches through a two-way mirror with the prison psychiatrist, DR. CUTLER. They can hear Vitti through a wall-mounted speaker. DR. CUTLER I'm treating him with Thioridazine, 300 milligrams, T.I.D. That seems to keep him pretty calm. BEN (watching Vitti) That would keep a parade pretty calm. He just keeps singing West Side Story songs? DR. CUTLER 'Tonight,' 'Maria,' the balcony scene. BEN The balcony scene? Both parts? DR. CUTLER Oh, yeah. Get him to do 'Officer Krupke.' It's really good. INT. PADDED CELL Ben and Dr. Cutler enter. Vitti doesn't seem to notice. VITTI (singing) 'Who's the pretty girl in the mirror 12. there? What mirror? Where? Who can that attractive girl be?' BEN Paul, it's me. Ben Sobel. Paul? (beat) Maria? VITTI Tony? BEN (with a look to Dr. Cutler) Oh, boy. (to Vitti) What's going on, Maria? VITTI The rumble -- it's tonight! I have to get out of here. I don't want to die. No, Chino, no! Vitti's jaw suddenly goes slack and he slumps in his seat, staring forward. BEN Paul? Paul? Ben waves a hand in front of Vitti's face. Nothing. DR. CUTLER This is how it's been. He sings for a while, then he goes completely catatonic. BEN (skeptical) Really. Can we take him to an examining room? DR. CUTLER Of course. CUT TO: INT. EXAMINING ROOM - MINUTES LATER Vitti sits inert on the examination table. BEN You already did a neurological work- up? DR. CUTLER Yep. No tumors, no aneurisms, no sign of stroke -- 13. Ben slaps Vitti's face lightly a couple times. BEN Completely catatonic -- He pulls on Vitti's ears and nose. Vitti does not react. BEN Totally gone. Well, I don't think he's smart enough to be faking. Street smart, yes, but we're talking about an I.Q. just north of a bedroom slipper. Ben checks Vitti out of the corner of his eye. No reaction. Then Ben takes a sharp needle from an instrument tray. BEN So if I just stuck him with this needle, he probably wouldn't even respond. DR. CUTLER I don't know. Try it. Ben hesitates for a moment to see if Vitti will crack, then BEN Okay -- He sticks the needle into Vitti's shoulder. VITTI (bursts into song) 'Boy, boy, crazy boy, keep cool, boy! Got a rocket in your pocket, keep cool-y cool boy -- ' CUT TO: INT. SING SING - CONSULTATION ROOM - NEXT DAY Vitti is sitting at a table facing Ben. Dr. Cutler observes from a chair in the corner. BEN Paul, we're going to give you some tests to assess your mental condition. There's no pressure -- just answer as best you can. Do I have your consent to share the results of these tests? VITTI Mommy's mad at me because I made a boom on the rug. 14. BEN I'll take that as a yes. Okay, I'm going to show you ten cards, each containing a picture of an inkblot. I want you to look at each card and tell me what you see. VITTI I see you. I see him. I see a table. BEN Focus, Paul. You haven't seen the card yet. (hands him first card) What does this look like to you? Take your time. Vitti looks at the wrong side of the card. It's all white. VITTI It looks like snow. BEN No, Paul, the other side. Vitti turns it over and makes a face. VITTI A bat. A big bat. Or a weasel. BEN (taking notes) Bat or weasel. All right. VITTI And he's got a little girl -- no, it's a little boy -- in his teeth -- and he's shakin' him and shakin' him 'cause the kid didn't wipe himself good -- and the kid is screaming because the bat-weasel ripped out his throat and the blood is shootin' out of his neck vein. (pointing) That's the blood. Doctor Cutler looks worried. BEN (skeptical) See anything else? VITTI Just the pussy with the teeth. 15. BEN (making more notes) Pussy with teeth. Next card. CUT TO: SHAPES TEST Vitti is literally trying to pound a square peg into a round hole. CUT TO: VITTI AND BEN BEN Now try repeating the numbers backwards. For instance, if I was 1- 2-3, you will say 3-2-1. Okay, 7-3-8. VITTI 3-2-1. BEN Try again. 7-3-8. VITTI Blue. CUT TO: THEMATIC APPERCEPTION TEST Vitti studies a vague and ambiguous photograph of a man standing beside a bed with a sleeping woman and child on it. BEN Just tell me what you think is going on in this picture. VITTI This is a picture of a guy -- nice, hardworking guy -- comes home and finds out his wife's been screwin' this midget while he was out of town. BEN (appalled, makes a note) Screwing a midget. And how does the story end? VITTI I think he works over the midget for a while, then he blows 'em away. 16. BEN The wife or the midget? VITTI (smirks) Trick question, right? Both of 'em. CUT TO: ANOTHER TEST BEN Okay, Paul. Last test. In this one, I'm going to start a sentence and you complete it any way you want to. Ready? 'I get angry -- ' VITTI Yes. BEN No, you're supposed to complete the sentence. VITTI I did. I said 'yes.' BEN I wasn't asking if you agreed or disagreed; it was more like, 'I get angry when -- ' VITTI -- whenever. BEN Well, that about does it for me. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - DAY Ben meets with RICHARD CHAPIN, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. BEN Based on his symptoms and the test results, I'd say brief psychotic disorder -- if it persists, possibly schizophreniform disorder. And Dr. Cutler agrees with my diagnosis. CHAPIN So he's crazy? 17. BEN Dr. Cutler? No, he's annoying, but -- CHAPIN Vitti. BEN Not crazy. At least not permanently. In certain people, continuous exposure to an extremely stressful situation -- soldiers in combat, for instance, disaster victims, a hostage situation, or being locked up in a maximum security prison with someone trying to kill you -- it can produce a temporary psychotic state. CHAPIN How temporary? BEN A day, a week, up to a month -- if the precipitating stressors are removed. CHAPIN (musing) Which means he's not going to get any better while he's still in the can. BEN He could get worse. He could deteriorate to the point where he'd be permanently schizophrenic. CHAPIN Then I'd say he's got a real problem, because he goes before the parole board in four weeks. BEN You think they'll let him out? CHAPIN Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll want to release a major Mafia figure who's now totally deranged on top of it. BEN (thinks) Well, couldn't you release him to a halfway house or some place where he could get some decent treatment? Based on my earlier work with him, I don't think he's dangerous, and I think he was making a real effort to reform himself. 18. CHAPIN You do, huh? (thinks for a long moment) Okay. Then I'll tell you what. I'm gonna release him into your custody. BEN Mine? Me? No, this is a bad time for me. My father just died -- and I've got this bulging disc in my neck -- and we're redecorating, which is a total nightmare. I can't -- CHAPIN You want to see him killed in prison? BEN No, of course not. CHAPIN Or sent to a facility for the criminally insane. BEN No -- CHAPIN Then he's all yours. I'm going to talk to the Bureau of Prisons and get you certified as a temporary federal institution. BEN (stricken) What? I can't be an institution. CHAPIN (firm) You've got thirty days to get him in shape for his parole hearing. That means sane, sober and gainfully employed. But let me warn you, Doctor. If he fucks up in any way -- if he flees, or if I find out that this whole thing was just a setup so he could get back on the street and return to a life of crime -- I will hold you totally responsible, and I'll see that you are stripped of your license and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Are we clear? BEN (gulp) Yes. We're clear. 19. CHAPIN You still want him? BEN (long beat to decide) Yes. CUT TO: EXT. SING SING - FEW DAYS LATER The gate opens and Ben coaxes Vitti outside. A guard watches them. BEN Okay, Paul -- this way. Vitti comes out carrying an overnight bag, walking like a zombie. Ben leads him over to the car and opens the door for him. Vitti keeps walking, passing the car. BEN This way, Paul. Over here. Here we go. Ben helps Vitti into the car. One of Vitti's legs is still outside. BEN Leg, Paul. Leg up. Ben lifts Vitti's leg into the car and closes the door. CUT TO: INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER Ben STARTS the CAR and pulls away with Vitti still slumped in his seat. Once out of sight of the prison, Vitti straightens and turns on Ben, suddenly lucid. VITTI (enraged) You fucking son-of-a-bitch! Where the fuck do you get off sticking me with a needle? BEN I knew it! I knew you were faking! You used me to get you out of prison! VITTI Took you long enough. I was singin' West Side Story for three fuckin' days. I'm half a fag already. 20. BEN What are you talking about? VITTI I call you to say somebody's trying to kill me and you hang up on me? BEN I was at the funeral home! VITTI You're my fuckin' doctor! BEN My father died! VITTI Me me me me! He's dead! Get over it. BEN Are you hearing yourself? VITTI (perfunctorily) I'm deeply sorry for your loss. BEN Yeah, I can see how touched you are. VITTI What's the difference? You hated him anyway. BEN I loved my father. I'm feeling a lot of grief right now. VITTI I'm not sensing it, but if you say so. Ben nervously pops a pill and swallows it. VITTI (re: pill) What's that? BEN Decongestant. I'm getting over a cold. All right, what's going on? Who's after you? VITTI I don't know -- take your pick. Could be my old family, or could be the Rigazzis. Ever heard of Lou Rigazzi - - Lou 'The Wrench'? 21. BEN Why "The Wrench"? VITTI Because he twisted a guy's head off once. BEN Off? VITTI Off. Fuckin' Calabrese -- animals. And comin' from me you know that's a big compliment. BEN I'm sure they'd be flattered. So -- VITTI The feds are really putting the pressure on. The families are fighting each other again -- what's left of 'em. It's the fall of the fuckin' Roman Empire. It's World War Three out there. BEN So what does that have to do with you? VITTI They knew I was gettin' out soon and the last thing anybody wants to see is me getting into it on either side. BEN Maybe if you just explain to them -- that you're out of it now, that you're starting a new life -- VITTI Yeah, they'll probably want to throw me a party and give me a gold watch. Trust me -- nobody's lookin' forward to me being out. BEN You are, aren't you? VITTI Me? Oh, yeah, my future looks real fuckin' rosy. Ben can't believe what he's gotten himself into. CUT TO: EXT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER 22. Ben and Vitti pull into the driveway and get out of the car. BEN Want to grab your stuff? VITTI I'm not gonna be here that long. Jelly's pickin' me up in an hour. BEN Paul! I don't think you understand. You're in my custody. I could get in a lot of trouble if you screw up. VITTI Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow. BEN Oh, no. You want to go back to Sing Sing? Thursday's meatloaf night. I can have you back there in no time. The U.S. Attorney was very clear. You stay with me; therapy every day; you can't leave the area without permission -- VITTI What are you, my father now? BEN And you have to get a job as soon as you're well enough, which is now. So are you coming in with me or do I have to make a phone call? Vitti relents and grabs his stuff from the back seat. VITTI I'm comin'. Some fuckin' life this is gonna be. He follows Ben up the stairs. CUT TO: INT. U.S. ATTORNEY'S OFFICE - LATER Chapin is conferring with another U.S. ATTORNEY, DAVIS, and Agents Miller and Cerrone. CERRONE You really think Vitti is crazy? CHAPIN Yeah, he's about as crazy as I am. 23. Think about it. Locked up, he was absolutely no use to me. But back on the street, Vitti's still powerful enough to pose a threat to both families. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. DAVIS If we can use Vitti to escalate this war, we might just end up putting them all away. MILLER That's if he goes back to his old life. CHAPIN If? People like Paul Vitti don't change. This guy's been a menace to society since he was twelve years old. Being a criminal is all he knows. Trust me. DAVIS He's gonna head straight for trouble. Then all we have to do is sit back and pick up the pieces. We could get twenty, maybe even thirty indictments next time the grand jury convenes. CHAPIN (smiles) You know, Giuliani started this way. DAVIS You running for mayor? CHAPIN Could happen. Just stick with Vitti. CUT TO: INT. SOBEL HOUSE - LATER Ben and Laura are in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Ben is wearing an apron that says "To Heck with Housework!" and a pair of Playtex rubber gloves. Laura is angrily muscling dishes around. LAURA How could you? How could you bring him here? That -- (shuddering) -- mobster -- in my home -- eating off my dishes. 24. (looking at the plate in her hand, disgusted) Ewww. She scrubs the plate with manic energy. BEN I didn't have a lot of choice. LAURA Oh, there's a law that says you have to bring a gangster home? BEN I told you. He's in my custody. I'm a federal institution. LAURA You should be in an institution. Why couldn't he just go home? BEN His wife and kids aren't here. They're in Ohio. LAURA Ohio! Sure. Everyone gets to be in Ohio except me. BEN His life was threatened and he didn't want to endanger his family. LAURA How thoughtful! What about endangering our family? (worried) I think my teeth are loose. Feel my teeth. BEN Honey, your teeth are fine. I know it's an imposition, but what could I do? I didn't want him here. They - LAURA You didn't want him, I didn't want him, but here he is! She looks up and jumps when she sees Vitti standing there. LAURA (covering, cheerful) Here he is! VITTI Coffee? 25. LAURA What? VITTI Somebody said something about coffee. LAURA That was you. You said you wanted some. VITTI So what's the holdup? LAURA (to Ben) Why don't you make your friend some coffee. I'm going upstairs to take a long bath and hopefully drown. Laura smiles at the two men, then exits. BEN You'll have to forgive her. She's usually a great hostess. VITTI I understand. She's uncomfortable. The whole situation's a little awkward with me bein' here -- but let's face it, Emily fuckin' Post she's not. BEN Emily fuckin' Post. Well, that explains why she rarely used her middle name. VITTI Listen, I got a friend coming over. I didn't want you to be surprised. BEN What kind of friend? Because if it's 'The Wrench,' or 'The Power Drill' or any other kind of tool -- VITTI Not that kind of friend. It's a personal thing. BEN They won't stay late, will they? VITTI (stares at him) Are you really that pussy-whipped? 26. BEN I'm not -- this has nothing to do with Laura. VITTI I heard her busting your balls. BEN We were having a disagreement. A certain amount of conflict is normal in a marriage. VITTI Or? BEN Or what? VITTI Or you're pussy-whipped. BEN Paul -- VITTI Good night, Whippy. BEN (calls after him) Remember, this is only temporary. VITTI Oh, really? I didn't hear you the tenth fuckin' time. He exits. CUT TO: INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER Ben knocks on Michael's door and walks in without waiting to be asked. CUT TO: INT. MICHAEL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS ACTION Michael is sitting up in bed reading. BEN (oblivious) Mike, can we talk for a second? MICHAEL Sure. What? 27. BEN I know

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How many times the word 'guard' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

towards

How many times the word 'towards' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

murdering

How many times the word 'murdering' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

song

How many times the word 'song' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

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And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

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And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

ill

How many times the word 'ill' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

night

How many times the word 'night' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

has

How many times the word 'has' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

blood

How many times the word 'blood' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

stiffened

How many times the word 'stiffened' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

time

How many times the word 'time' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

doubting

How many times the word 'doubting' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

blade

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And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

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And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

prettily

How many times the word 'prettily' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

voices

How many times the word 'voices' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

phoebus

How many times the word 'phoebus' appears in the text?

And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

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And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

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And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee! [_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.] Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpass gods!--Love on and dare: A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer! PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word! Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save! NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms! [PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.] Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight! Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this! But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then. PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there! NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win! PHAEDRA Nay, in God's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more. For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave! [_To herself, rejecting_.] Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain. NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so. NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread? PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered. NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee! --Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may, Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say! [_The_ NURSE, _having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _turns back and goes into the house_. PHAEDRA _sits pensive again on her couch till towards the end of the following Song, when she rises and bends close to the door_.] CHORUS Er s, Er s, who blindest, tear by tear, Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe that pliest Deep in our hearts joy like an edg d spear; Come not to me with Evil haunting near, Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear Wing's music as thou fliest! There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear, As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, Er s, Child of the Highest! In vain, in vain, by old Alphe s' shore The blood of many bulls doth stain the river And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor; Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store The Keybearer, who standeth at the door Close-barred, where hideth ever The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack man's life Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, Him have we worshipped never! * * * * * There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, A Maid without yoke, without Master, And Love she knew not, that far King's child; But he came, he came, with a song in the night. With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight, A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, Faster and vainly faster, Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. Alas, thou Bride of Disaster! O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, That Dirce's wells run under, Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall! Ye saw the heavens around her flare, When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there The Bride of the bladed Thunder. For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air, Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. [_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door and is listening_.] PHAEDRA Silence ye Women! Something is amiss. LEADER How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this? PHAEDRA Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark! LEADER I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark. PHAEDRA Oh, misery! O God, that such a thing should fall on me! LEADER What sound, what word, O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard Hath leapt upon thine heart? PHAEDRA I am undone!--Bend to the door and hark, Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away! LEADER Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say What thing hath come to thee? PHAEDRA (_calmly_) Why, what thing should it be? The son of that proud Amazon speaks again In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden! LEADER I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear. For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks Floating, at thy heart it knocks. PHAEDRA "Pander of Sin" it says.--Now canst thou hear?-- And there: "Betrayer of a master's bed." LEADER Ah me, betrayed! Betrayed! Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested, Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, By her thou heldest dear, By her that should have loved thee and obeyed! PHAEDRA Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. LEADER Where wilt thou turn thee, where? And what help seek, O wounded to despair? PHAEDRA I know not, save one thing to die right soon. For such as me God keeps no other boon. [_The door in the centre bursts open, and_ HIPPOLYTUS _comes forth, closely followed by the_ NURSE. PHAEDRA _cowers aside_.] HIPPOLYTUS O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean, What poison have I heard, what speechless sin! NURSE Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess ... HIPPOLYTUS I have heard horrors! Shall I hold my peace? NURSE Yea by this fair right arm, Son, by thy pledge ... HIPPOLYTUS Down with that hand! Touch not my garment's edge! NURSE Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die! HIPPOLYTUS Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why? NURSE It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear! HIPPOLYTUS Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. NURSE Thine oath, thine oath! I took thine oath before! HIPPOLYTUS 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. NURSE O Son, what wilt thou? Wilt thou slay thy kin? HIPPOLYTUS I own no kindred with the spawn of sin! [_He flings her from him_.] NURSE Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare! HIPPOLYTUS O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed, Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in; labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[_Turning to the_ NURSE.] As thine accurs d head Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream that _I_ ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all! But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent, watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [_He goes off in fury to the left_. PHAEDRA _still cowering in her place begins to sob_.] PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate! LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [_At these words_ PHAEDRA _suddenly remembers the_ NURSE, _who is cowering silently where_ HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns upon her_.] PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour. But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Curs d be thou, and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. [_The_ NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, _downcast but calm_.] NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right. So fares it with us all in the world's sight. PHAEDRA First stab me to the heart, then humour me With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be! NURSE We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh, There is a way to save thee, even so! PHAEDRA A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod Already, foul and false and loathed of god! Begone out of my sight; and ponder how Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now. [_She turns from the_ NURSE, _who creeps abashed away into the Castle_.] Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz n, Let all ye hear be as it had not been; Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer. LEADER By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear, No word will I of these thy griefs reveal! PHAEDRA 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, I clutch at in this coil of miseries; To save some honour for my children's sake; Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice! LEADER What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall? PHAEDRA (_musing_) Die; but how die? LEADER Let not such wild words fall! PHAEDRA (_turning upon her_) Give thou not such light counsel! Let me be To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me! To-day shall be her day; and, all strife past Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane! He shall not stand so proud where I have lain Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share The life I live in, and learn mercy there! [_She goes off wildly into the Castle_.] CHORUS Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding, In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod; Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, As a bird among the bird-droves of God! Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar Of the deep Adriatic on the shore, Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, And Pha thon's sad sisters by his grave Weep into the river, and each tear Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold; Where the mariner must stay him from his onset, And the red wave is tranquil as of old; Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End That Atlas guardeth, would I wend; Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth In God's quiet garden by the sea, And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth Joy among the meadows, like a tree. * * * * * O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing Through the swell and the storm-beating, Bore us thy Prince's daughter, Was it well she came from a joyous home To a far King's bridal across the foam? What joy hath her bridal brought her? Sure some spell upon either hand Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, Seeking Athena's tower divine; And there, where Munychus fronts the brine, Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, The curse from the Cretan water! And for that dark spell that about her clings, Sick desires of forbidden things The soul of her rend and sever; The bitter tide of calamity Hath risen above her lips; and she, Where bends she her last endeavour? She will hie her alone to her bridal room, And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom; And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose The one strait way for fame, and lose The Love and the pain for ever. [_The Voice of the_ NURSE _is heard from within, crying, at first inarticulately, then clearly_.] VOICE Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth! Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death! A WOMAN God, is it so soon finished? That bright head Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead! VOICE O haste! This knot about her throat is made So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade? A WOMAN Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within, And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen? ANOTHER Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road In life, to finger at another's load. VOICE Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing That guards his empty castle for the King! A WOMAN Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said? No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead! [_The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed the approach of_ THESEUS. _He enters from the left; his dress and the garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed_.] THESEUS Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim Within the house? The vassals' outcry came To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet With a joy held from God's Presence! [_The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him. A dirge-cry comes from the Castle_.] How? Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow? Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were, Returning thus, to find his empty chair! [_The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward_.] LEADER O Theseus, not on any old man's head This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. THESEUS Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me? LEADER Thy motherless children live, most grievously. THESEUS How sayst thou? What? My wife? ... Say how she died. LEADER In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. THESEUS A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all-- That held her? Or did some fresh thing befall? LEADER We know no more. But now arrived we be, Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. [THESEUS _stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow. He notices the wreath_.] THESEUS What? And all garlanded I come to her With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger! Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo The bolts; and let me see the bitter view Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. [_The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body of_ PHAEDRA _is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of Handmaids, wailing_.] THE HANDMAIDS Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done: A deed to wrap this roof in flame! Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold? Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame, The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold? O ill-starred Wife, What brought this blackness over all thy life? [_A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected_.] THESEUS Ah me, this is the last --Hear, O my countrymen!--and bitterest Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest, How hath thine heavy heel across me passed! Is it the stain of sins done long ago, Some fell God still remembereth, That must so dim and fret my life with death? I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. Ah wife, sweet wife, what name Can fit thine heavy lot? Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, In one swift gust, where all things are forgot! Alas! this misery! Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled From age to age on me, For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. LEADER Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. THESEUS Deep, deep beneath the Earth, Dark may my dwelling be, And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, O Love, of thy most sweet society. This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. [_He turns suddenly on the Attendants_.] Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee? [_He bends over_ PHAEDRA; _then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up_.] What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death, This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth? [_There is no answer. He bends again over_ PHAEDRA.] SOME WOMEN Woe, woe! God brings to birth A new grief here, close on the other's tread! My life hath lost its worth. May all go now with what is finish d! The castle of my King is overthrown, A house no more, a house vanished and gone! OTHER WOMEN O God, if it may be in any way, Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray! I know not what is here: some unseen thing That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. [THESEUS _has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion_.] THESEUS Oh, horror piled on horror!--Here is writ... Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it? LEADER What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak! THESEUS Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, Things not to be forgotten?--Oh, to fly And hide mine head! No more a man am I. God what ghastly music echoes here! LEADER How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near. THESEUS No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more; This deadly word, That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, Yet will not stay unheard. [_He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present_.] Ho, hearken all this land! [_The people gather expectantly about him_.] Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. [_Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven._] Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son, Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day, If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray. LEADER Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed! I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. THESEUS It may not be.--And more, I cast him out From all my realms. He shall be held about By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death; Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea, Shall live and drain the cup of misery. LEADER Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need. Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed For all thine house and folk--Great Theseus, hear! [THESEUS _stands silent in fierce gloom._ HIPPOLYTUS _comes in from the right._] HIPPOLYTUS Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear To help thee, but I see not yet the cause That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was. [_The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father, and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on_ HIPPOLYTUS _and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier._] Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen Dead! [_Murmurs in the crowd._] 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. What is it with her? Wherefore did she die? [THESEUS _remains silent. The murmurs increase._] Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, Why art thou silent? What doth silence know Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe? And human hearts in sorrow crave the more, For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in From one most near to thee, and more than kin. THESEUS (_to himself_) Fond race of men, so striving and so blind, Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find, Desiring all and all imagining: But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, To make a true heart there where no heart is! HIPPOLYTUS That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, To make a false heart true against his will. But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill, Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. THESEUS (_as before_) O would that God had given us here below Some test of love, some sifting of the soul, To tell the false and true! Or through the whole Of men two voices ran, one true and right, The other as chance willed it; that we might Convict the liar by the true man's tone, And not live duped forever, every one! HIPPOLYTUS (_misunderstanding him; then guessing at something of the truth_) What? Hath some friend proved false? Or in thine ear Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here, Though utterly innocent? [_Murmurs from the crowd_.] Yea, dazed am I; 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry, Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed! THESEUS O heart of man, what height wilt venture next? What end comes to thy daring and thy crime? For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, And every age break out in blood and lies Beyond its fathers, must not God devise Some new world far from ours, to hold therein Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin? Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife; And standeth here convicted by the dead, A most black villain! [HIPPOLYTUS _falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe_.] Nay, hide not thine head! Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain. Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again! Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect; Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked! I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure, No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord; Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries-- Now thou art caught and known! Shun men like these, I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. My wife is dead.--"Ha, so that saves thee now," That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou! What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee? "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn To the true brood."--A sorry bargainer In the ills and goods of life thou makest her, If all her best-beloved she cast away To wreck blind hate on thee!--What, wilt thou say "Through every woman's nature one blind strand Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"-- Are we so different? Know I not the fire And perilous flood of a young man's desire, Desperate as any woman, and as blind, When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou... But what avail to wrangle with thee now, When the dead speaks for all to understand, A perfect witness! Hie thee from this land To exile with all speed. Come never more To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong! What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong, And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so Will bear men witness that I laid him low, Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay! LEADER Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men Happy? The highest are cast down again. HIPPOLYTUS Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair... [_Murmurs again in the crowd_.] I have no skill before a crowd to tell My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.-- Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude With music. None the less, since there is come This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb, But speak perforce... And there will I begin Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin Naked, and I not speak a word! Dost see This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee There dwelleth not in these one man--deny All that thou wilt!--more pure of sin than I. Two things I know on earth: God's worship first; Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less Who yieldeth to the tempters.--How, thou say'st, "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest Of

wicked

How many times the word 'wicked' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

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And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

amusing

How many times the word 'amusing' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

poor

How many times the word 'poor' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

gaming

How many times the word 'gaming' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

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And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

severe

How many times the word 'severe' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

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And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

dine

How many times the word 'dine' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

master

How many times the word 'master' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

exacting

How many times the word 'exacting' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

south

How many times the word 'south' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

almost

How many times the word 'almost' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

noble

How many times the word 'noble' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

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And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

outward

How many times the word 'outward' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

pauvre

How many times the word 'pauvre' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

many

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And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

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And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

ideologies

How many times the word 'ideologies' appears in the text?

And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite quality of the materials. By all which rhapsody, said Lord Glenvarloch, I can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning. Reckoning! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before, perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you _shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered. Well, but mark you, said Nigel, this worthy chevalier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does he? No, no, answered Lord Dalgarno; there is a sort of ceremony which my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a _symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the sacrifice. In other words, said Lord Glenvarloch, this man keeps a gaming-house. A house in which you may certainly game, said Lord Dalgarno, as you may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection. For all this, Malcolm, said the young lord, gravely, I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary. And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your word? said Lord Dalgarno. I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house. I tell you this is none, said Lord Dalgarno; it is but, in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money. I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong, said Nigel; but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted from me. Now, by my honour, said Dalgarno, what you have said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard. Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours. Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of hospitality over which that eminent professor presided. CHAPTER XII ----This is the very barn-yard, Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game, Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse, And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens, The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly, Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur, And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer. _The Bear-Garden._ The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment presided as master of the ceremonies. Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour, in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration, there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be disagreeably driven back into them. When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court, who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere; and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company, displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty. Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion. The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.-- I hope you do bring back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them away in your pockets. That must have been because you left me nothing else in them, Chevalier, answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch! Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory-- Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch, said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the extent of rigour. You have the reason, milor, answered the Chevalier, you have the right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up immediately. So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-- Why, what!--you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that? I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes, said Lord Glenvarloch; but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house, talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets. Pshaw, man! said Lord Dalgarno, I spoke but according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his conversation. Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated. Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have no objection that the company should be amused with their folly instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current for it. In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the curieux and Futile, chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one whom he had known in his youth, Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant; who had maintained his master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. Despardieux c'dtoit un homme superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell what the devil any of them were made upon at all. The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations. You speak of the siege of Leith, said a tall, raw-boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession, which lives by killing other people-- you talk of the siege of Leith, and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved. Saar, said the Chevalier, Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a vous! O Monsieur. answered the swordsman, we know the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot. Pot! exclaimed the Chevalier, what do you mean by pot--do you mean to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did always charge in our shirt. Which refutes another base scandal, said Lord Dalgarno, laughing, alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms. Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord, said the captain, from the bottom of the table. Craving your lordship's pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes. We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge was acquired, answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously. I need not speak of it, my lord, said the man of war; the world knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs! A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London! said a gallant who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it-- I will not brook to hear that repeated. What! said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand, and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; will you quarrel for your city? Ay, marry will I, replied the other. I am a citizen, I care not who knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and manners. The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, Well run, Bow-bell! -- Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's! -- Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he should advance. You mistake me, gentlemen, said the captain, looking round with an air of dignity. I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel. You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel, said the citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a corner. Follow me. It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the sword, said the captain; and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak. And I, said the citizen, do nominate the bowling-alley behind the house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time the present moment. So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mischief. It would be a crime against the public interest, answered his friend; there can no mischief happen between two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him, like a ram. It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on, thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground. A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables. And the conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled accordingly, with all speed. By Heaven, said Lord Dalgarno, I could never have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are raising him. Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts of the company. By my honour, said Lord Dalgarno, he takes the same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain. Despardieux, milor, said the Chevalier, if he had stayed one moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron. In the meanwhile, said Lord Dalgarno, you will oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should venture to come way again. Ventre saint gris, milor, said the Chevalier, leave that to me.--Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron! When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms of the game, as run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal trundling timber! thus making good the saying, that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable principles. Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another, remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry him to that exhibition; unless, indeed, he added, in a whisper, there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the ordinary. I never heard my father speak of stage-plays, said Lord Glenvarloch, for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would have approved of them. Approved of them! exclaimed Lord Dalgarno-- why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier de la Fortune. Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. And wherefore lookest thou sad, he said, my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf of the living world which we have turned over in company, less

must

How many times the word 'must' appears in the text?