really as much frightened as Don Giuseppe pretended to be and I did not like it. The green devil encouraged his master to approach the corpse, which he did, first dipping the pen in the ink-bottle. He offered the pen and held in a convenient manner the new will which would put everything straight, begging his father to sign it. The corpse slowly raised its stiff right arm, took the pen in its hand and signed the will; it then dropped the pen on the ground, lowered its stiff right arm and the door of the tomb closed. Except for this, it did not move and it did not speak at all. It was a ghastly scene and the house was as still as though it had been empty.
In the next act we returned to Don Giovanni whom we found playing dice with Fernando at an inn. When Fernando had lost his money and his jewellery and his lands and his castle and his furniture, he played for his wife, and Don Giovanni won her also. Whereupon Fernando wrote two letters to his wife, one, which they sent by a messenger, told her to come to the inn at once, the other was for Don Giovanni to give to her when she came. Fernando then went away, leaving the coast clear, and the lady entered.
Don Giovanni: Donna Inez, I love you.
Donna Inez: Silence, Sir. I am here to meet my husband. Where is he?
Don G (giving her the second letter): He left this for you.
Donna I (reads): “Dear Inez: We have been playing dice. Don Giovanni has won. You now belong to him. Your affectionate husband, Fernando.” It cannot be! ’Tis false! My husband would never behave in so ungentlemanly a manner.
Giov: On the contrary, Madama. And is not this his handwriting?
In: Now that I look at it again, it is. Ah, Cielo! Betrayed! Surely, Sir, you do not expect me to consent?
Giov: Certainly I do.
In: Never. I am a Spanish lady of high degree.
Giov: Inez, I love you. Be mine.
In: Are you of noble birth?
Giov: Yes.
In: Are you valorous?
Giov: Yes.
In: Don Giovanni (hiding her face), I love you!
Giov: My own, my beautiful one!
In: There is, however, one little difficulty about which, of course, you could have known nothing. Some years ago I foolishly took an oath. I swore I would be true to my husband during his life.
Giov: Well, but—let me see—yes, I did bring my sword with me. Suppose I were to step round and run him through the heart—if you don’t mind waiting?
In: I’m afraid it would be troubling you?
Giov: Not at all. Any little thing of that kind. So glad you mentioned it.
In: Thanks. I suppose you could not manage to bring it off within sight of the window?
Giov: I don’t see why not. Anyhow, I’ll do my best.
[Exit Giov.
In: Waiter! (Enter Waiter.) Lay the cloth for two (She meditates while the waiter lays the cloth. Exit Waiter.) Being a Spanish lady of high degree, the only course open to me is suicide. Fortunately, this ring contains a dose of poison strong enough for two, otherwise I should have had to die unavenged or to send round to the chemist’s for more. (She pours out two glasses of wine, splits the contents of her ring between them, and goes to the window.) Ah! here they come. It is annoying that they are so far off. I cannot distinguish them in the dark; however, they are fighting. Now one is killed and the other is coming in. I wonder which it will be.
Enter Don Giovanni.
Giov: There! my own, my beautiful one. I’m afraid you did not have a very good view, but your poor husband was such a damned bad swordsman that I inadvertently killed him before I could get him as near as I intended.
In: Well, I confess I should like to view the body, just to make sure you have not killed the wrong gentleman–-if you’ve no objection?
Giov: None whatever. You’ll find him in the gutter up the street, under the third lamp post. (Exit Donna Inez. Don Giovanni observes the two glasses of wine and smells them suspiciously. Re-enter Donna Inez.)
In: Perfectly satisfactory and I thank you.
Giov: My own, my beautiful one! I love you! Be mine.
In: Shall we not first have a little supper? You must be fatigued after your exertions. And see! here is a nice glass of wine for you.
Giov: After you, Madama. (Donna Inez hesitates to drink.) You see, my beautiful one, I have had some experience in these matters, and now I never drink anything poured out for me by a lady unless she drinks some of it herself.
In (aside): Being a Spanish lady of high degree I cannot possibly refuse. I can only trust that as he is of noble birth and valorous, he won’t be such a blackguard as not to drink. (Drinks.)
Giov: Brava! But—do you know?—after all, I think I should prefer a fresh bottle, if it’s quite the same to you, my beautiful one. (He empties his glass upon the floor; the wine flows about the stage in a stream of fire. Donna Inez dies in agony. Exit Don Giovanni laughing. Curtain.)
During the applause that followed, Brancaccia rose, exclaiming:
“Such a thing could not possibly happen.”
She collected her wraps and we left the theatre, although the play was in nine acts and we had only seen three. As soon as we got home, she retired. I said to Peppino:
“I wish we had not gone to that play. I am sure Brancaccia has been frightened by it.”
“No,” said he, “not frightened.”
“But she’s gone away to recover herself?”
“Look here, Brancaccia don’t be thinking of the drama. She don’t be thinking of nothing—only the baby. She go to see if Ricuzzu is sleeping.”
PALERMO
CHAPTER III
MARIONETTISTS AT HOME
Alessandro Greco to the Author.
Marionette Theatre,
Piazza Nuova, Palermo,
4 June, 1909.
My dear Enrico,
Since I last wrote to you there has been a continual to-do and no time for writing letters. What has been the to-do? Is it possible you have forgotten my telling you that I am studying to be a singer and that I take lessons every day? Now listen to this: Here in Palermo, a new opera was performed recently for the benefit of the victims of the earthquake at Messina. The story was taken from a great German romance and the music was composed by an Italian who is now in America. I was asked to sing as a supplementary tenor. We had a month of rehearsals and in the end the performance was splendidly successful. O my dear friend! If you had seen me on the stage! I was dressed as a warrior with a wig of curly hair and a pair of moustaches. I also received applause, and, when I appeared before the audience to bow my acknowledgments, I thought: “Oh, if only my dear friend were present, how he would be applauding me!” You will understand after that whether I have had any time to write to you; but now that things have calmed down a little and there is less going on I can write to you as much as you like.
As you know, I am always busy in the teatrino; the other evening we repeated Samson, that play which you once saw here.