The Tragedy of Mister Morn (13 page)

GANUS:

Away, you hirelings of a liar! … Where’s Tremens?

He summoned me.

KLIAN:

He’s interrogating.

He’ll be here soon …

GANUS:

Well, I don’t need him.

He invited me himself, and if … he’s not here …

KLIAN:

Wait, I’ll call him …

[
Goes towards the door
.]

FIRST REBEL:

And we will go too …

Is that not so, brothers? Why stay here …

SECOND REBEL:

Yes,

so much to do …

THIRD REBEL:

Klian, we’re coming with you!

[
quietly
]

Brothers, I’m scared …

FOURTH REBEL:

I’ll finish copying later …

I’ll go …

THIRD REBEL:

Brother, brother, what are we doing …

[
KLIAN
and the
REBELS
leave
.
GANUS
is alone
.]

GANUS
[
looks around in all directions
]:

… A hero lived here …

[
Pause
.]

TREMENS
[
enters
]:

Thank you for coming,

my Ganus! I know that you’ve been clouded

by the sorrows of life. You’ve scarcely noticed

that for a month—a month today exactly—

I have ruled over an intoxicated country.

I called for you, so you could tell me directly,

could explain … but first let a fortunate man

talk of his happiness! You know yourself—

better than anyone, Ganus—that I waited

for my day, in a delirium, in a chill …

My day has come—unexpectedly, like love!

Rumour spread like a flame that the country

had no king … When and how he disappeared,

who strangled him, on what night, and how long

a dead man ruled the land, nobody now knows.

But the people do not forgive deceit:

the burial vaults, the senate, were filled

with angry trampling. How splendidly,

how austerely, the old men died, and how

he screamed—O, sweeter than an ardent violin—

the little boy, their ward. The people took revenge

for the deception,—I seized the opportunity

to blaze up, and realized that I had waited so long

in vain: there was no king at all—only

a legend, potent and magical! Awakening,

the mob stormed in here, and nothing but echoes

resounded through the dead palace! …

GANUS:

You called

for me.

TREMENS:

You are right, let’s turn to business:

in you, Ganus, I divined a kindred fire;

to you alone I entrusted my thoughts.

But you were tormented by a woman;

now she is gone; I’m going to ask you,

Ganus, for the last time: will you help me?

GANUS:

You summoned me in vain …

TREMENS:

Think it over,

don’t rush, I will give you a little time …

[
Hurriedly
KLIAN
enters
.]

KLIAN:

My leader, those people, the ones who recently

were singing in the streets, are being tortured …

There is no one to interrogate them …

Your assistants—how can I put it—are feeling

nauseous …

TREMENS:

All right, I’m coming, I’m coming … You,

my Klian, are a fine fellow! … I’ve long known …

By the way, one of these days I will

surprise you: I’ll order that you be hanged.

KLIAN:

Tremens … My leader …

TREMENS:

As for you, Ganus,

think it over, I ask you, think it over …

[
TREMENS
and
KLIAN
leave
.]

GANUS
[
alone
]:

A single thought torments me: here lived a hero …

these mirrors here are sacred: they looked on him …

He sat here, in this mighty chair.
His footsteps

linger in the palace, like the step of a hexameter

dwindling in one’s memory … Where did he die?

Where did his shot ring out? Who heard it?

Perhaps it was out there, outside the city,

in a mournful oak forest, in the snows of night …

and his pale friend buried the hot corpse

in a drift of snow … Sin, inconceivable sin,

how can I expiate you? All of my blood

is grateful for the death of my rival and yet

all of my soul curses the death of the King …

We are duplicitous, we’re blind—and it is hard

to live, trusting only in life: earthly life

is a murky translation from the divine original;

the general thought is clear but the primordial

music is missing in its words … What are passions?

Mistakes in the translation. What is love?

A rhyme lost in transmission to our discordant

language … It’s time for me to take up the original! …

My dictionary? One simple little book with a cross

on its cover … I’ll seek out the stony arches, there,

where the respite of prayer and the full breath

of the soul will teach me the pronunciation

of life …

There in the doorway, Ella has stopped,

and does not see me, deep in thought,

fingering the fringes of her sluggish shawl … What

can I say to her? She needs warmth … Dear one …

She doesn’t see me …

ELLA
[
aside
]:

How amusing! … I opened

and read someone else’s letter … Handwriting

like the wind, and the smell of the south … I

resealed it, just as father once showed me

in jest … Morn and Midia are together!

How can I give it to him? He thinks that she

is living in that old-fashioned backwater

that she comes from … How to give it to him? …

GANUS
[
approaching
]:

You’re up early. Me too … We seldom meet

now, Ella: another festivity coincided

with your wedding …

ELLA:

Morning—an azure

miracle—and not a morning … it trickles … whispers …

Has Klian gone?

GANUS:

He’s gone … Tell me, Ella,

are you happy?

ELLA:

What is happiness? The flutter

of wings, or perhaps a snowflake on one’s lip—

that is happiness … Who said that? I don’t recall …

No, Ganus, I was wrong, you know … But

how bright it is today, it’s practically spring!

Everything trickles …

GANUS:

Ella, Ella, did you ever

think that the daughter of a powerless rebel

would live in a palace?

ELLA:

Oh, Ganus, I miss

our little old rooms, our peace, the fireplace,

the paintings … Listen: lately I’ve come to realize

that my father is mad! We have fallen out

with one another; now we’re not speaking …

I believed in it at first … What for! Rebellion

for the sake of rebellion is both boring

and horrifying—like night-time embraces

without love …

GANUS:

Yes, Ella, you have truly

understood …

ELLA:

The other day all the squares

gazed at the sky … Laughter, screams, howls

of fury … Saving themselves from the flames,

the flyers soared up from all directions, came

together like crystal swallows, and quietly

the shimmering flock slipped away. One

fell behind and froze for a moment above

the tower, as though he had left his nest there,

and then unwillingly caught up his sorrowful

companions,—and all of them melted away

into a crystal dust in the sky … I realized,

when they had disappeared, when in my eyes

swam blinding circles—from the sun—

I suddenly realized … that I love you …

[
Pause
.
ELLA
looks out of the window
.]

GANUS:

I have

remembered! … Ella, Ella … How frightening! …

ELLA:

No, no, no—keep silent, dear. I look

at you, I look into the palace garden,

I look into myself, and now I know

that
all is one: my love and the raw sun,

your pale face and the bright trickling icicles

beneath the roof, the amber spot upon

the porous sugary snow mound, the raw sun

and my love, my love …

GANUS:

I’ve remembered:

it was ten o’clock, and you left, and I

could have stopped you … Yet another blind,

momentary sin …

ELLA:

I don’t need anything

from you … Ganus, I will never tell you again.

And if I told you now, it was only because

the snow today is so translucent … Really,

all is well … Days follow days … And then

I will become a mother … other thoughts

unwillingly will occupy me. But now,

you are mine, like the sun! Days will flow

after days … What do you think—perhaps

one day … when your sorrow …

GANUS:

Don’t ask me, Ella!

I don’t want to even think of love!

I answer like a woman … Forgive me … But I

burn with something other, I’m filled with something

other … I dream only of the austere wings,

the straight brows of angels. For a while

I will go to them—away from life, away

from fires, away from greedy dreams … I know

a monastery entangled by cool wisteria.

There I will live; through iridescent glass

I’ll look on God, listen as the bellows

of the organ breathe the world’s soul

up to the triumphant heights, and think

about vain feats, about a hero who prays

in the murk of sleeping myrtles, amidst

the fire-flies of Gethsemane …

ELLA:

Oh, Ganus …

I forgot … here, a letter came yesterday …

addressed to my father, with a note saying

it’s for you …

GANUS:

A letter? For me? Show me …

Ah! I knew it! Don’t …

ELLA:

So, can I

tear it up?

GANUS:

Of course.

ELLA:

Give it to me …

GANUS:

Wait …

I don’t know … that smell … that handwriting,

which flies headlong into my memory,

into my soul … Wait! I won’t let it in.

ELLA:

Well, read it…

GANUS:

And let it in? Read it? So that

the old pain can unfurl itself once more?

Once you asked me, should you go … Now

I ask you, shall I read it? Shall I?

ELLA:

I answer: no.

GANUS:

You’re right! There! To shreds … And put this heap

of dried falling stars here … under the table …

in the basket woven with a coat-of-arms …

My hands smell of perfume … There … It’s over.

ELLA:

Oh, how bright it is today! … The spring

shines through … Chirruping. The snow is melting.

There are droplets on the black branches …

Let’s go, let’s go, for a walk, Ganus? Do you

want to?

GANUS:

Yes, Ella, yes! I am free,

free! Let’s go.

ELLA:

You wait here … I’ll go

get dressed … I won’t be long …

[
Leaves
.]

GANUS
[
alone, looking out of the window
]:

Yes, truly,