Modesty
[ Principal ] [ Arriba ] [ Lack of appetite ] [ Modesty ] [ State ]

The heptalogy (the seven deadly sins) of Hieronymus Bosch

3. Modesty

Draft translation into English by:  Rafael Spregelburd / Gwynne Edwards

not definitive / not revised / use only as a guidance.

Characters:

SCENE 1

(MARIA FERNANDA is pointing a gun at SAINT XAVIER. Both seem extremely calm. The woman, still pointing the gun, lets her bag fall from her arm to the floor.)

SAINT XAVIER: Hello.

MARIA FERNANDA: Yes.

SAINT XAVIER: Your husband gave me the key.

MARIA FERNANDA: The key?

SAINT XAVIER: I’m a friend of his. He’s invited me over for dinner. He said he’d be late, so he gave me his spare key. He thought it best if I wait for him here. I’m passing through.

MARIA FERNANDA: He didn’t tell me. (She lowers the gun, then puts it down next to her bag.) I’m sorry. He didn’t tell me anyone was calling.

SAINT XAVIER: No problem.

MARIA FERNANDA: I’m Maria Fernanda.

SAINT XAVIER: How do you do.

MARIA FERNANDA: I called up. But there was no reply.

SAINT XAVIER: When?

MARIA FERNANDA: A moment ago, before coming up. I always do it. I don’t need to tell you why.

SAINT XAVIER: You mean... don’t think I’m being personal... you don’t live here?

MARIA FERNANDA: Anyway. I always use the intercom before coming up. Why didn’t you answer?

SAINT XAVIER: It didn’t buzz. Nothing at all.

The intercom buzzes. It makes a deafening noise. MARIA FERNANDA goes over and speaks.

MARIA FERNANDA: Yes? (...) Just a minute (Hangs up)

She goes over to her bag, puts the gun in it. Looks for something.

MARIA FERNANDA:  Do you have any cigarettes?

SAINT XAVIER: No, I don’t smoke.

MARIA FERNANDA goes to the intercom.

MARIA FERNANDA: Hello? Are you still there? (...) Do me a favour, will you? (...) Not that kind of favour! (Laughs) (...) Cigarettes. (...) Yes, the corner of  Anchorena street, there’s a... (...) OK (Hangs up) I asked for cigarettes for us... so I don’t have to go down again.

SAINT XAVIER: It’s alright, I don’t smoke. Thanks anyway.

MARIA FERNANDA: If it bothers you, I’ll open the window.

SAINT XAVIER: No, it’s OK. No problem. It’s your place.

MARIA FERNANDA: No. We aren’t together any more. It’s the best for the kids. I don’t know what he might have told you. I’ve got keys and all the rest of it, but... Anyway, you are our guest. Sit down.

SAINT XAVIER: Thanks.

MARIA FERNANDA: So where did you and Alexander meet?

SAINT XAVIER: Alexander?

MARIA FERNANDA: Yes. I think he’s got very few friends.

SAINT XAVIER: The thing is... I don’t live in the city. It was in Rosario, about ten years ago. We were both at a conference... well, he gave a lecture, actually, on... And so he stayed at my place. And after that he always stayed at my place when he came to Rosario. I... in fact we met today...

MARIA FERNANDA: What time was it?

SAINT XAVIER: Excuse me?

MARIA FERNANDA: When did you meet? What time was it?

SAINT XAVIER: Oh, this afternoon... I don’t remember exactly when... we had made arrangements for... it must have been around...

MARIA FERNANDA: It’s alright. I know he’s dating someone else.

SAINT XAVIER: Who?

MARIA FERNANDA: We still see each other, but we’ve stopped living here. We are leaving this place. You can see it’s not the best time. Not the best time for guests

SAINT XAVIER: Yes... it’s quite a long time since I last saw him...

Pause.

SAINT XAVIER: His name isn’t Alexander.

MARIA FERNANDA: What?

SAINT XAVIER: I mean, when...

MARIA FERNANDA: When I used the intercom it was because I thought he might have someone else up here, OK?!

Pause.

SAINT XAVIER: If you like, I’ll go down and get the cigarettes. I’ll have a word with him. Maybe it’s best if I don’t stay, after all...

MARIA FERNANDA: He’s not there.

SAINT XAVIER: What?

MARIA FERNANDA: He hasn’t arrived yet.

SAINT XAVIER: But he went for cigarettes to the corner of Anchorena Stret...

MARIA FERNANDA takes a pack of cigarettes from her bag and lights one.

MARIA FERNANDA: It wasn’t him. (Pause) It was Anna. She’s a friend of ours. She sometimes looks after Lucia.

SAINT XAVIER: Ah.

MARIA FERNANDA: If the smoke bothers you, I’ll open the window.

SAINT XAVIER: It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me...

MARIA FERNANDA: It’s a very confined space. I can’t stand other people’s smoke.

(Loud buzz from the intercom.)

MARIA FERNANDA: I don’t mind so much in open areas. Otherwise, I won’t have people smoking in my face.

SAINT XAVIER: Aren’t you going to answer?

MARIA FERNANDA: No. There’s a spare key.

SAINT XAVIER: But...

MARIA FERNANDA: It’s just to let me know who’s coming up.

SAINT XAVIER: Annie?

MARIA FERNANDA: Anna. And Alexander has a key too. Or did he give you his spare so you could let him in?

(The intercom buzzes again.)

SAINT XAVIER: What Alexander?

MARIA FERNANDA: (Into the intercom) Hello? (...) Ah. Listen. Be a good chap. Go to the corner of Perón, you’ll find one there, next to the Korean shop... (...) That¡’s the one. (...) Thanks. See you. (...) Yes, the strong ones.

(Hungs up, goes quickly to her bag and produces the gun.)

SAINT XAVIER: What Alexander?

MARIA FERNANDA: Alright. How did you get in?

SAINT XAVIER: What is all this?

MARIA FERNANDA: Do you think I’m stupid? That I’ll believe all that shit about going to a conference in Rosario? Alexander’s never been to Rosario.

SAINT XAVIER: I don’t know any Alexander. And it was Arthur who gave me the key. 

MARIA FERNANDA: Arthur? (Lowers the gun, disoriented) That’s the problem. Arthur is not my husband.

SAINT XAVIER: Anyway, I’d like to know why you said “be a good chap” when you were speaking to Anna? And here’s the key, if you want the evidence. Your husband gave it to me at five o’clock.

MARIA FERNANDA: Five o’clock? Just now you said you couldn’t remember exactly when you met him. And Anna has her husband with her, downstairs. I was speaking to him. Is this what you are looking for? (She shows him a cassette). No? Then it must be a different one. Don’t worry, there are copies everywhere. I am completely accustomed to this little game! And I’m fed up of all this! What do you all think? That you can go around intimidating people, just like that? Would you like to see what else there is? (She goes out, presumably to look for more cassettes.) If you take them all out of my sight you’d be doing me a big, big favour! (SAINT XAVIER watches her without moving. A moment after she’s left the room he coughs and spits blood. But he is now TERZOV, not SAINT XAVIER).

SCENE 2

(ANYA TEREZOVNA enters by the door through which MARIA FERNANDA has just left. She is holding some manuscripts. The light is gloomier than in the previous scene. The climate is that of a more distant country)

ANYA:  Here it is!

TERZOV: Alright. Alright. Don’t fuss.

ANYA:  I thought you might be interested.

TERZOV: Can’t you see I’m dying?

ANYA:  Don’t say that. Don’t say that to me.

TERZOV: I’m sorry.

ANYA:  It’s the stuff that father wrote. I told you about it. Irene came across it in a drawer. We were helping mother to clear things out.

TERZOV: I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon. I didn’t know where you were.

ANYA:  We’ve persuaded her at last to rent the room to a foreigner.

TERZOV: Foreigners...

ANYA:  Yes, I know. But some of them are quite well-off and have nowhere to live. They’ve got money, they bring everything they had in the south, with no intention of going back... Irene and I convinced her it makes no sense to keep the room empty. And she agreed.

TERZOV: Let’s see, I’ll take a look.

ANYA:  She wasn’t happy but she took the point. (She gives him the manuscript) It must be the first time she’s opened father’s desk. She’ll get over it. He seems a very nice gentleman. We feel we can trust him. He’ll only be staying a few days... he’s got business to see to in the city. But after that we’ll find another tenant, and then another. Hopefully, it’ll turn out well.

TERZOV: Who is this person?

ANYA:  I’ve nothing against foreigners, They speak very strangely, that’s true, but we’d sound the same if we went over there and...

TERZOV: Who are you talking about?

ANYA:  I thought I told you. Doctor Smederovo.

TERZOV: No. You didn’t.

ANYA:  The tenant. He asked if we had a chamber to rent. Mother’ll get used to it. And with the extra money, we can...  A chamber, he said. I haven’t heard that word for ages!

TERZOV: Fine. Do as you wish. It’s your father’s house, after all. And this is his too! (He throws down the manuscript) Why do you want me to read it?

ANYA:  Because... it’s father’s... There are some good things, some nice things, I think. I though that... as a writer... you could tell if they have any literary merit... (She picks up the pages) I could approach a publisher straight away.

(Pause.)

TERZOV: I’m sorry. I’m in a bad mood. My dear Anya. A publisher. How many publishers do we know?

ANYA:  Well, lots, and all of them...

TERZOV: ...not a single one of them wants to publish my work.

ANYA:  You aren’t being fair. They haven’t turned you down.

TERZOV: Anya, we don’t want to talk about it again, do we? I’m not interested in being published when I’m dead, and that won’t be long. Why would anyone be interested in the work of a former colonel of the Fourth Legion, recently deceased, and mysteriously retired with honours after a spectacular defeat at the Zvornik front? And what did we have to do there, what did he have to do in that war? Where on earth is Zvornik? Please, don’t do me even more harm.

ANYA:  I thought that...

TERZOV: Leave it!

ANYA:  You have to read it. Irene and I think it’s good.

TERZOV: You mean your sister can tell a “g” from a “j”?

ANYA:  There’s no need to insult me. And leave Irene out of it! We’re all trying to find a way out of this, and...

TERZOV: I’ll tell you how to get out of it... Like I’m getting out of it. Finished. Curtains to Mirko Terzov, or Terezov, whichever way you prefer. I won’t have an epitaph, anyway. “He didn’t earn it”. “He died with his boots on, he took his work to the grave”.

(Silence. ANYA TEREZOVNA weeps quietly in a corner. TERZOV sees her. He picks up the manuscript and grudgingly begins to read.)

ANYA:  (Weakly and still sobbing) There’s a nice little piece... About a major who loses an arm. He’s a pipe-smoker. It’s a beginning for something, maybe a novel, something big... Father has some comments on the habit of smoking and the missing arm... Irene was very moved by it.

TERZOV: I’m reading it. Can’t you see I’m reading it?

ANYA: Do you want more light? I could bring you something warm, too, before dinner... There isn’t much, but... Would you like more light? Tomorrow I’ll ask Irene for some wood. We even chopped up an old bed that no one ever used. It was in father’s study...

TERZOV: Let me read. (Slightly mockingly at first, he grows interested as he reads) “ ‘Do you not think, dear Masha, we’ll be remembered as writers from a time when everyone wrote about the obsession with smoking?’ ‘Oh, please’, Masha replied, blushing, unable to look at his missing arm. ‘Do leave all that, it’s a wonderful day. Let’s join the others in the garden.’ Young Duvrov ran the fingers of his remaining hand through his thick black moustache, smiled at Masha and thought in his native language: I shouldn’t torment her. I shouldn’t torment myself. I shouldn’t torment them. What pleasure there is in seeing how we all suffer? ‘Yes, indeed, it’s a wonderful day’, he said to her loudly...”

ANYA: Further on he has some thoughts on the meaning of pleasure and misfortune. He must have written it after the defeat at Zvornik... 

(A knock at the door. TERZOV carries on reading. ANYA goes to open the door. SMEDEROVO will enter next.)

OFF ANYA: Ah, it’s you.

OFF SMEDEROVO: Anya, how are you?

OFF ANYA: Just as I said... It’s good of you to come.

(They enter.)

ANYA:  Mirko, this is Doctor Smederovo. He’s the physician who’s taken the room in mother’s house.

SMEDEROVO: Delighted. You don’t look well.

TERZOV: No. Delighted.

ANYA:  Would you care for a brandy, doctor?

SMEDEROVO: Yes, I’d love one. (ANYA doesn’t bring it).

ANYA:  Have you settled into the “chamber”?

SMEDEROVO: Indeed I have. Thank you.

ANYA:  I hope it’s to your liking.

SMEDEROVO: I’d never have found anywhere else. All the hotels are full. At least, that’s what they tell us.

ANYA:  Really?

SMEDEROVO: Anyway, I’m sure I’ll soon get used to the room. I shan’t be staying long. Oh, by the way, there is one thing about the chamber I’d like... 

ANYA:  I expect my mother explained the terms. I’ll get you the brandy. And some sausage. (She goes out)

SMEDEROVO: A very special person, her mother.

TERZOV: Don’t let her fool you. She’ll try to rip you off.

SMEDEROVO: Don’t worry. I’m very grateful. (For a moment they observe each other in silence)  You know it’s tuberculosis, do you not?

TERZOV: Look... We can’t pay you. I’m grateful to you for taking the trouble to come. I expect my wife and my mother-in-law persuaded you. But we know any treatment costs money, and we don’t have it.

SMEDEROVO: Could you possibly speak more slowly?

TERZOV: Yes, we know it’s tuberculosis. And we know it’s very advanced.

SMEDEROVO: Would you like a cigar?

TERZOV: You aren’t like your average doctor, not like the others. Why did you leave your country?

SMEDEROVO: I got married.

TERZOV: So your wife’s from here?

SMEDEROVO: She isn’t, no. But we’ll soon get used to it. This is your last cigar. I’m suggesting you have it because after this one I’m going to forbid you to smoke forever.

TERZOV: Keep it, in that case. Don’t you think we’ll be remembered as writers from a time when everyone wrote about the obsession with smoking? Men and women who wake up at night, or who make the men and women they sleep with wake them up, just to have a smoke and get through the rest of the night?

SMEDEROVO: I know what you mean. I read it. I read “The Carousal”. (Pointing at the manuscripts that TERZOV is still holding.) Anya Terezovna allowed me to read it. You left it in your father-in-law’s room.

TERZOV: I did?

SMEDEROVO: You are quite wonderful. I read it. What I mean to say is... You’re a wonderful writer.

TERZOV: You are making a mistake.

ANYA:  (Entering with the brandy.) The doctor’s right, Mirko.

TERZOV: You asked him to read this, pretending it’s mine? I’m speaking quickly, so he can’t understand. (He’s not speaking quickly.)

ANYA:  Not now. We’ll talk later.

SMEDEROVO: You were right, Anya. Your husband is the writer of the century. But he’s going to die if we don’t take action.

TERZOV: We can’t pay you. That’s obvious.

SMEDEROVO: Look, Terzov, I’ll be quite frank. I don’t mean to sound brutal, but it’s the way I’ve learned this language. You can pay me... by agreeing to give me the rights to your novel.

TERZOV: Give you the rights? To what novel?

ANYA:  To your work, to your novel, my darling. It’s a wonderful idea, doctor. A very fair deal.

TERZOV:  What work are we talking about? Random notes that no one wanted to publish, feverish thoughts dictated by demoniac forces, as a result of my highest fevers, dark poems without any merit to anyone...?

SMEDEROVO: I know you’re a humble man. But listen to me. Both of you. I’m a businessman. I don’t intend to deceive you. I can save your life. But I’m not doing you a favour. I’ll become your literary agent, and I intend to make myself a fortune. I’ll even be able to stop being a doctor, a profession I despise.

ANYA:  It’s fair. It’s a perfectly fair arrangement.

TERZOV: No, no, excuse me a moment, both of you. You don’t know what you’re saying. I even doubt you can read properly, or understand what you read...

SMEDEROVO: Whatever you say. But you aren’t in any position to choose. You are going to die, Terzov.

TERZOV: What is it you want? This? (Indicating the manuscripts.) Take it. It’s all yours. Publish it and leave me in peace.

ANYA:  Mirko, please.

SMEDEROVO: I don’t think we understand each other. I want much more than that. I want you to continue writing. Your writing is flesh and blood, and I must encourage you to bleed, we are all in your words. You have made our wartime misfortunes worthwhile, you put your signature on our agony, in “The Carousal”. The spilled blood of thousands of sons of this land boils in your prose. I shall succeed. You will become the greatest writer, I promise.

ANYA:  And I agree with him.

SMEDEROVO: Pack your bags. There’s a long journey ahead of us. I can do nothing for you in this climate. You will come and live with me.

TERZOV: (After a pause.) You are mad.

SMEDEROVO: Think about it. I’ll expect your answer tomorrow.

ANYA: I’ll see you out, doctor. (They leave.)

ANYA (OFF): Don’t worry, I’ll persuade him.

SMEDEROVO (OFF): Do your best, Anya Terezovna. We all deserve something better than this.

ANYA (OFF): Goodbye. I’ll bring you his answer tomorrow.

(ANYA enters.)

ANYA:  Aren’t you going to speak to me?

TERZOV: It’s humiliating. I’m trying to gather the courage to speak to you. (Pause.) Why did you tell him your father’s work is mine?

ANYA:  I’ve told you. I think it’s good.

TERZOV: No doubt you think you’ll persuade me.

ANYA:  I’m...

TERZOV: Let’s not make things worse. You know already I shall refuse. You knew before you started all this. An act of sheer stupidity! I feel tired. Don’t wake me, least of all to talk about this. Nothing has happened today. That man was never here. (He goes out.)

(ANYA watches him go out. But she is now ÁNGELES, not ANYA.)

SCENE 3

ÁNGELES: Have you found the bathroom? The switch is on the right.

SAINT XAVIER (OFF): Yes, fine.

ÁNGELES: The people who live here are unbelievable, in this building, I mean.

SAINT XAVIER (OFF): When I met Arthur earlier today I’m sure he said the sixth floor, “K”.

ÁNGELES: No, the even floors go up to “F”. In the second block it’s “G” to “L”, except for the top floor. The porter and a Protestant priest live there.

SAINT XAVIER: (Entering) Really?

ÁNGELES: Yes, in the second block. Didn’t you pull the chain?

SAINT XAVIER: Yes, of course I did.

ÁNGELES: It doesn’t work properly. You have to pull the bent piece of wire sticking out of the tank.

SAINT XAVIER: That’s what I did, yes.

ÁNGELES: But you didn’t wash your hands?

SAINT XAVIER: Of course, yes.

ÁNGELES: They’re dry.

SAINT XAVIER: I washed my hands... and I dried them.

ÁNGELES: Was there a towel? Did you use the white one or the small greenish one?

SAINT XAVIER: ...No, I think the white one.

ÁNGELES: And behind the second block there’s an annexe with four floors. Lots of people get confused. They knock on my door, looking for the fourth floor “M”. The letter’s rubbed out on the intercom and it doesn’t say “Third Block”.

SAINT XAVIER: In any case, you ought to change the lock. The same key...

ÁNGELES: Mh. I thought you said it was open.

SAINT XAVIER: What?

ÁNGELES: The door was open... on the sixth floor “K”.

SAINT XAVIER: I didn’t realise there were two blocks in the building.

ÁNGELES: Would you like another one?

SAINT XAVIER: No. No, I’m fine.

ÁNGELES: They’re not two. There are three blocks in all. I’m going to have another. (She starts to go to the kitchen). Didn’t you like it?

SAINT XAVIER: What?

ÁNGELES: Maybe there was too much tonic.

SAINT XAVIER: No, no, it was perfect. Anyway, I’m not much of a drinker.

ÁNGELES: You needn’t be an expert to know when a gin and tonic isn’t right. (She goes out quickly; pause.)

SAINT XAVIER: (To ÁNGELES, off) It’s a very nice place! When I last came to Buenos Aires, Arthur had a bed-sit with a kitchenette. (Sound of a buzzer, similar to the intercom.) Shall I answer it? (Another buzz. He goes over to the intercom.)  Yes? (...) Hello? Hello?

(ÁNGELES enters and picks up the telephone. She listens, puts the phone down, goes out again. SAINT XAVIER, who has been watching her closely, puts down the intercom phone.)

SAINT XAVIER: It was the phone, then?

ÁNGELES: Yes.

SAINT XAVIER: It wasn’t Arthur, was it? To say he’s on his way?

ÁNGELES: So before he met me, he lived in a bed-sit.

SAINT XAVIER: Yes, near the docks. A completely inaccessible place.

ÁNGELES: I’m sure he won’t be long What did you say your name is?

SAINT XAVIER: Saint Xavier.

ÁNGELES: That is... Isn’t that a Jewish name, originally?

SAINT XAVIER: It’s Spanish. I believe it’s Spanish.

ÁNGELES: Ah, yes. I think I’ll turn the oven off and we’ll wait for him. Or we’ll eat now and...

SAINT XAVIER: No, let’s wait. I’m not that hungry.

(ÁNGELES looks at him in silence.)

SAINT XAVIER: The woman must have thought I was crazy... the one on the other floor. Going to her flat, talking to her about her husband... And he wasn’t...

ÁNGELES: Arthur said that, before he met me, he lived in his aunt’s house, in Flores.

SAINT XAVIER: Maybe that was before.

ÁNGELES: Yes. It couldn’t have been much before. In any case, he never mentioned a bed-sit to me. You know that Arthur is much older than I. You know that, don’t you? When exactly did you meet him today?

SAINT XAVIER: About five o’clock, I think.

ÁNGELES: It couldn’t have been (She goes out.) Would you like to slice some salami?

SAINT XAVIER: Not to worry, Ángeles. Maybe later, when he arrives... (The buzzer again.)

ÁNGELES (OFF): Could you answer it?

SAINT XAVIER: Of course. (He picks up the receiver.) Hello?

ARTHUR’S VOICE ON THEPHONE: There’s no time to explain. If she’s there, just listen. Don’t ask any questions. Don’t tell her it’s me.

SAINT XAVIER: Hello? Is that you, Arth...?

VOZ DE ARTHUR: No questions! There’s a hammer…

SAINT XAVIER: What?

VOZ DE ARTHUR: Listen, first! Go and see where the hammer is, in the second drawer, the table on the left. You have to... Wait. I can’t talk now. Wait. (Phone goes dead.)

SAINT XAVIER: Hello? Hello?

ÁNGELES: Was that him?

SAINT XAVIER: I don’t know... Well, yes, it was, but he got cut off.

ÁNGELES: Did he say when he’ll get here?

SAINT XAVIER: Er... no. He got cut off almost straight away.

ÁNGELES: I wanted to tell him to bring some wine. We’ve run out.

SAINT XAVIER: Don’t worry about me. I’ll have a soft drink, or some water...

ÁNGELES: Of course. You don’t drink. We’ll have something to eat. Don’t you want to wash your hands?

SAINT XAVIER: What? Again? Well, alright then... maybe just in case I... (He goes out to the bathroom) The white towel?

ÁNGELES:  I’ll bring you one. (She goes out by another door. The stage is empty for a moment. When the characters enter again, they will be those of the other story).

SCENE 4

LEANDRA: The light’s very good here until quite late. When I’ve finished my house-work, I often sit here in the window and sketch one or two poems. Rather foolish... But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ll get better.

TERZOV: (Inspecting the house with a natural repugnance). I take it your husband told you we can’t pay.

LEANDRA: You don’t have to worry. It’s all settled. The money will come later, if you get better. 

TERZOV: And what if I don’t?

LEANDRA: You will. In any case, my work will help. Perhaps I can sell my flowers. At the moment I grow them for pleasure, to make the house more cheerful. (She shows him a pot with yellowish dying flowers). I grow them in pots... the earth is so poor. I’d grow some more, that’s all – just ordinary flowers I could cut and sell in the town. For parties, or funerals. There are always plenty of those. Do you think that’s pathetic? That I should take up such a wretched profession?

TERZOV: No more wretched than trying to be a writer.

LEANDRA: Not at all, Terzov. My husband thinks you have a huge talent.

TERZOV: (Giving her a piece of paper that he’s produced out of his briefcase) Alright, let’s see what you think, Leandra.

LEANDRA: I don’t know if I should... they must be rough drafts.

TERZOV: Just rubbish... things I wrote down during the journey.

LEANDRA: Yes. It’s an awful journey. I suppose you’ll need to rest.

Smederovo enters.

SMEDEROVO: I’ve put the paper on the desk, as you requested. Ink too, black ink, lotions from the Crimea...

LEANDRA: (To SMEDEROVO.) We thought there’s more light here for him to write.

SMEDEROVO: I can’t see how he could be more comfortable here than at a real desk. Don’t you agree, Terzov?

LEANDRA: I sometimes do a bit of writing here, and it’s not bad at all, I swear.

SMEDEROVO: I think we should let our dear friend decide where he...

(Terzov looks on in silence for a moment.)

TERZOV: If you don’t mind, I’d like to rest.

SMEDEROVO: Yes of course. Carry on.

TERZOV: (About to reach the door) Am I to sleep here?

SMEDEROVO: Carry on.

(Terzov goes out.)

LEANDRA: Don’t push him. He’s only arrived. He wrote this during the journey. (Gives him the manuscript.)

SMEDEROVO: (Reads) “The train journey

                            That hides

hides

hides the other

journey is

a single enormous wound

accompanies me

it’s the sacrificial

lamb though.”

I always have trouble with punctuation.

LEANDRA: It’s very grammatically complex.

SMEDEROVO: It’s excellent.

LEANDRA: Yes.

SMEDEROVO: Good. We can’t afford to lose a moment. Each line is precious. I’ll speak to Graziano this afternoon.

LEANDRA: You mean Graziano the publisher?

SMEDEROVO: Of course. I wrote to him a week ago to put him in the picture. I need to take everything he’s written.

LEANDRA: This letter from Graziano came today. You didn’t give me time to tell you before.

SMEDEROVO: Let me see it. (He reads.) The man’s a fool. It doesn’t matter. We’ll find someone else.

LEANDRA: Yes. I’ll bring him some blankets.

Should you wish to read the rest of this rough translation, please contact author by e-mail.

Many thanks to: Rachel Toogood, Noelle Morris, Julie-Anne Robinson, Alan David, Lois Baxter, Colin Hurley and Kirsty Bushell, who also collaborated with some scenes for this rough translation.

E-mail: spre@argentores.org.ar                                                                                                                                      Espacio cedido por ARGENTORES