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Authors: Mario Vargas Llosa
Three Plays: The Young Lady from Tacna, Kathie and the Hippopotamus, La Chunga (18 page)
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KATHIE: (
Looking him slowly up and down
) Everything I told you is absolutely true, Johnny darling. That’s something you’re going to have to live with from now on. The worst
of it is, I don’t feel in the least bit remorseful, even when I see you in a state like this. I’m too bitter for that. Maybe I am a monster – I must be, I suppose. Because I’m not at all sorry for you, I’ve no pity left.
Looking him slowly up and down
) Everything I told you is absolutely true, Johnny darling. That’s something you’re going to have to live with from now on. The worst
of it is, I don’t feel in the least bit remorseful, even when I see you in a state like this. I’m too bitter for that. Maybe I am a monster – I must be, I suppose. Because I’m not at all sorry for you, I’ve no pity left.
JUAN: (
Getting up with his revolver in his hand
) You’ll pay for this, you bitch.
Getting up with his revolver in his hand
) You’ll pay for this, you bitch.
KATHIE: Aim straight. Here, at the heart. You’re shaking, come closer so you don’t miss. You see I won’t run away, I’m not frightened. My life came to an end some time ago now. You saw to that. Do you think I mind dying? Go on, finish the job off.
(
But
JUAN
doesn’t manage to fire. His hand shakes, his body shakes. He collapses at
KATHIE’
s feet. He puts the revolver to his own temple and shuts his eyes. He is sweating, and trembling like a leaf. He still can’t bring himself to fire.
KATHIE
now seems sympathetic
.)
But
JUAN
doesn’t manage to fire. His hand shakes, his body shakes. He collapses at
KATHIE’
s feet. He puts the revolver to his own temple and shuts his eyes. He is sweating, and trembling like a leaf. He still can’t bring himself to fire.
KATHIE
now seems sympathetic
.)
If you can’t kill me, with all that hatred you must have for me inside you, you certainly won’t be able to kill yourself. It’s harder to commit suicide than to murder someone. It takes more courage than it does to ride twenty-five-foot waves. It requires nobility of character, a sense of style, a flair for the tragic, and a romantic soul. You haven’t got any of these things, Johnny darling.
JUAN: (
Sobbing, the revolver at his temple
) But you have. Help me, Pussikins, help me. After what you’ve done, after what you’ve told me, I can’t go on living, knowing what I do. Help me, help me.
Sobbing, the revolver at his temple
) But you have. Help me, Pussikins, help me. After what you’ve done, after what you’ve told me, I can’t go on living, knowing what I do. Help me, help me.
(
With his free hand, he makes
KATHIE
put her hand on top of his, over the trigger
.)
With his free hand, he makes
KATHIE
put her hand on top of his, over the trigger
.)
Go on, squeeze. Get your own back for all those things you say I’ve done to you. Get your own back for the surfing, for Waikiki, for all the emptiness. Now’s your chance, go on, free yourself …
(
With a sudden decisive gesture,
KATHIE
squeezes the finger
JUAN
is holding over the trigger. The shot rings out loud, and
JUAN
rolls on the floor. Everything freezes for a few moments
.)
With a sudden decisive gesture,
KATHIE
squeezes the finger
JUAN
is holding over the trigger. The shot rings out loud, and
JUAN
rolls on the floor. Everything freezes for a few moments
.)
SANTIAGO: What do you do with yourself here in Paris, Kathie,
when you’re not writing your book on the Far East and Black Africa?
when you’re not writing your book on the Far East and Black Africa?
KATHIE: (
Tired and discouraged
) I go to the Louvre, the Jeu de Paume, the Orangerie, the Grand Palais, the Museum of Modern Art, or the galleries on the rue de Seine. I walk for hours, I stand for hours, I get very tired and my feet swell up. I try to make up for lost time.
Tired and discouraged
) I go to the Louvre, the Jeu de Paume, the Orangerie, the Grand Palais, the Museum of Modern Art, or the galleries on the rue de Seine. I walk for hours, I stand for hours, I get very tired and my feet swell up. I try to make up for lost time.
SANTIAGO: (
To
ANA) She tries to make up for lost time. While you carry on just the same as when I first met you.
To
ANA) She tries to make up for lost time. While you carry on just the same as when I first met you.
ANA: I never had time to improve or be any different. We couldn’t afford a servant, what with the pittance you got from
La Crónica
. And when you landed yourself that teaching contract at the university, you said, ‘I’m sorry, Anita, we can’t possibly have servants, my principles won’t allow it.’ They didn’t seem to balk at your wife becoming one though, did they? You’re right, I carry on just the same. But what about you? Have you changed much? Yes, I do believe you have. Are you sure it’s for the better though?
La Crónica
. And when you landed yourself that teaching contract at the university, you said, ‘I’m sorry, Anita, we can’t possibly have servants, my principles won’t allow it.’ They didn’t seem to balk at your wife becoming one though, did they? You’re right, I carry on just the same. But what about you? Have you changed much? Yes, I do believe you have. Are you sure it’s for the better though?
(
She helps
JUAN
get up and the two of them exit, arm in arm, as if they were ghosts
.)
She helps
JUAN
get up and the two of them exit, arm in arm, as if they were ghosts
.)
KATHIE: It’s just that … all that about it never being too late to learn – I don’t believe it. Sometimes it is too late for certain things. One has to learn to recognize them, and enjoy them while there’s still time.
SANTIAGO: Do you mean modern art? Modern music? Avant-garde literature?
KATHIE: I mean classical art, classical music, and reactionary literature as well. I get bored. I don’t understand. I’ve no critical judgement. I can’t tell if a painting is good or bad. And it’s the same with music, plays and poetry. It’s the truth, Mark. I know one should never admit it to anyone but it’s true none the less.
SANTIAGO: Modern art is very obscure. You can’t see the wood for the trees. We all get lost in that particular jungle, I assure you.
KATHIE: I’m going to let you into another secret. You know that frivolous, meaningless world I used to inhabit? Well,
I always used to crave for something different – something I felt I was missing, a life full of things that would satisfy the mind. I wanted to immerse myself in the world of the intellect, the arts, and literature. But now when I make the effort to read or to go to exhibitions, concerts, and lectures, I get so bored, I wonder if the artistic world isn’t basically as false and meaningless as the one I left.
I always used to crave for something different – something I felt I was missing, a life full of things that would satisfy the mind. I wanted to immerse myself in the world of the intellect, the arts, and literature. But now when I make the effort to read or to go to exhibitions, concerts, and lectures, I get so bored, I wonder if the artistic world isn’t basically as false and meaningless as the one I left.
SANTIAGO: We both seem to be swimming against the tide: we’re not satisfied with what we’ve got, and we’re always yearning for what we haven’t got.
KATHIE: The worst of it is — I don’t really know what I do want any more. Maybe I’m realizing I’ve lost my illusions. Could it be old age, do you suppose?
SANTIAGO: How gloomy you’re becoming these days! I don’t believe a word you’ve been saying. If you really were that disenchanted with life, you wouldn’t be writing that book about Black Africa and the Far East.
KATHIE: Am I really writing it? Or are you?
SANTIAGO: I’m only your scribe, I put in the full stops and the commas and perhaps the odd adjective here and there. But the book is entirely yours from beginning to end. (
The alarm clock rings, indicating that two hours have passed
.)
The alarm clock rings, indicating that two hours have passed
.)
KATHIE: Heavens, our two hours are up, and we’ve hardly done any work at all. Can you stay another half-hour?
SANTIAGO: Of course I can. And I won’t charge you overtime either.
KATHIE: Bah, overtime’s the least of it. A few
soles
more or less isn’t going to make any difference to Johnny. He won’t go bankrupt. He can surely spend a little bit on art, at least.
soles
more or less isn’t going to make any difference to Johnny. He won’t go bankrupt. He can surely spend a little bit on art, at least.
SANTIAGO: In that case, I will charge you for the extra half-hour and I’ll take Ana out to the pictures. She’s always complaining I never go out with her.
KATHIE: So your wife is called Ana? You must introduce her to me. Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you for some time now. Don’t you think it’s odd I’ve never invited you to the house outside working hours? SANTIAGO: Not at all. I realize what a hectic life you lead. I
read about it in the newspapers. Every day a dance, a drinks party or some reception or other.
read about it in the newspapers. Every day a dance, a drinks party or some reception or other.
KATHIE: They’re Johnny’s engagements. It would look bad if I didn’t go with him. And quite honestly, it’s the least I can do, since he is so good to me. No, that’s not the real reason. You’d get very bored with him. You’re both so different. Johnny has a heart of gold. He’s the kindest man in the world, but he’s also the most philistine.
SANTIAGO: He can’t be that much of a philistine, to have reached his position in life.
KATHIE: He is, he says so himself. As far as Johnny’s concerned, the arts just get in the way of doing good business. ‘Culture, the arts, I leave all that to you, Pussikins, and you leave the practicalities of life to me.’ When you get to know him, you’ll see what a philistine he is.
SANTIAGO: As a matter of fact, I do know him. I’ve met him several times on my way in and out of the house. He always looks at me as if I were some strange animal. Have you told him what sort of work I do for you?
KATHIE: Yes, but I’m sure it went in one ear and out the other.
SANTIAGO: (
Returning to the tape-recorder
) Shall we carry on then?
Returning to the tape-recorder
) Shall we carry on then?
KATHIE: (
Pensive, doubtful
) Yes … On second thoughts, I don’t think I will.
Pensive, doubtful
) Yes … On second thoughts, I don’t think I will.
SANTIAGO: You don’t think you will what?
KATHIE: Ask you and your wife here for tea or supper with Johnny and me.
SANTIAGO: As you wish. But you’ve already whetted my curiosity. May one know why?
KATHIE: Don’t take it the wrong way. (
Looks tenderly at the little Parisian attic.
) But it would be like mixing oil with water. I’m not talking about you and Johnny, though both of you together would be like oil and water too. No, I’m talking about myself. When I come up the little staircase which leads to this terrace, I leave behind San Isidro, Lima, and Peru, and I feel as if I really am entering a Parisian attic, where one only breathes art, culture and fantasy. I leave behind the woman with the busy social life, the banker’s wife. Because here, I am Kathie Kennety – spinster,
widow, happily married woman, saint, or mischief-maker — someone who’s experienced everything life has to offer and who only lives to enrich her soul. This little corner of my life in which you play such a vital part makes all the rest bearable. You help make my dreams a reality, and my reality a dream. I don’t want the two to overlap. I don’t want our friendship to go beyond this little room of lies. That’s why it’s better if you don’t meet my husband and that’s why I don’t want to meet your wife. I’d rather they stayed behind down below. You do understand that, don’t you?
Looks tenderly at the little Parisian attic.
) But it would be like mixing oil with water. I’m not talking about you and Johnny, though both of you together would be like oil and water too. No, I’m talking about myself. When I come up the little staircase which leads to this terrace, I leave behind San Isidro, Lima, and Peru, and I feel as if I really am entering a Parisian attic, where one only breathes art, culture and fantasy. I leave behind the woman with the busy social life, the banker’s wife. Because here, I am Kathie Kennety – spinster,
widow, happily married woman, saint, or mischief-maker — someone who’s experienced everything life has to offer and who only lives to enrich her soul. This little corner of my life in which you play such a vital part makes all the rest bearable. You help make my dreams a reality, and my reality a dream. I don’t want the two to overlap. I don’t want our friendship to go beyond this little room of lies. That’s why it’s better if you don’t meet my husband and that’s why I don’t want to meet your wife. I’d rather they stayed behind down below. You do understand that, don’t you?
SANTIAGO: Of course I do. And I’ll tell you why. Listening to you talk, I think I understand why I never felt like bringing Anita up here.
KATHIE: Have you told her about my little Parisian attic?
SANTIAGO: I told her you’d had a little playroom built on your roof. You know how inquisitive women are, she’s always nagging me to bring her here to see it. It nearly drives me mad. I keep fobbing her off with the excuse you wouldn’t like it, but I don’t think that’s the real reason at all.
KATHIE: What is the real reason?
SANTIAGO: The same as the one you gave me – to stop me meeting your husband and coming to your house – the downstairs one, I mean. Without realizing it, Kathie, I’ve entered into the game myself. After teasing you so mercilessly, I’ve let myself be captivated by this little room too.
KATHIE: I always suspected you were laughing at Kathie Kennety and her little Parisian attic.
SANTIAGO: Of course I was. I thought you were crackers – a middle-class woman with more money than sense, playing a very expensive game. I found you ridiculous. I used to believe it was just for the money you paid me that I came up here for those couple of hours each day. But that’s no longer the case. For some time now, I’ve been enjoying the game myself: these two short hours in which lies become truths, and truths becomes lies, help me tolerate the rest of the day as well.
KATHIE: It does me good to hear you say that. It lifts a weight off my mind. I trusted you from the moment I first saw you. And I’m so glad I did. My instincts didn’t let me down. Thank you, Mark, very much.
SANTIAGO: I’m the one who should be thanking you. When I come up to this little attic, I begin a new life too. I leave behind the journalist who works on
La Crónica
writing mediocre articles for an even more mediocre salary. And the second-rate little lecturer with his undistinguished pupils – yes, he stays behind as well, for up here Mark Griffin is born – author, intellectual, creative genius, visionary, innovator, arbiter of intelligence, and epitome of good taste. Here, as we work, I can have those love affairs I never really had, I can live through Greek tragedies I hope never actually to experience. And here, thanks to you, I not only travel through the Far East and Black Africa but through many other places no one would ever suspect.
La Crónica
writing mediocre articles for an even more mediocre salary. And the second-rate little lecturer with his undistinguished pupils – yes, he stays behind as well, for up here Mark Griffin is born – author, intellectual, creative genius, visionary, innovator, arbiter of intelligence, and epitome of good taste. Here, as we work, I can have those love affairs I never really had, I can live through Greek tragedies I hope never actually to experience. And here, thanks to you, I not only travel through the Far East and Black Africa but through many other places no one would ever suspect.
KATHIE: You said mediocre – mediocrity. Isn’t this a very mediocre game as well?
SANTIAGO: Maybe it is, Kathie. But at least we’ve still got our imagination, our ability to dream. We mustn’t let anyone take that little toy away from us because it’s the only one we’ve got.
KATHIE: How well we understand each other. And what good friends we’ve become.
SANTIAGO: Friends and accomplices, Kathie.
KATHIE: Yes, accomplices. That reminds me, shall we start again?
SANTIAGO: Let’s. Whereabouts in Black Africa were we? (
He returns to his tape-recorder. We hear some exotic music, a mixture of Arab and African
–
sensual, seductive and mysterious.
)
He returns to his tape-recorder. We hear some exotic music, a mixture of Arab and African
–
sensual, seductive and mysterious.
)
KATHIE: (
Looking through her papers
) Let’s see now … On the island of Zanzibar. The small aeroplane landed at dusk.
Looking through her papers
) Let’s see now … On the island of Zanzibar. The small aeroplane landed at dusk.
SANTIAGO: The shadows are falling, as I alight from the little aircraft midst shrubs and coconut palms which murmur with the sounds of the island of Zanzibar, confluence of
every race, language and religion, the land of a thousand adventures.
every race, language and religion, the land of a thousand adventures.
KATHIE: The small hotel where I had a room booked was a ramshackle old house full of flies and Arabs.
SANTIAGO: The mystical aura of palaces, minarets and whitewashed fortresses gradually takes hold of me, as a coolie trots slowly through half-empty streets, pushing the rickshaw which bears me to my lodgings – a lofty Islamic tower which stands watch over the city.
KATHIE: I asked for a cup of tea which I gulped down, then I did a quick change, and though the proprietress advised me not to, I dashed out to explore the city. Its name sounded like something out of a film.
SANTIAGO: Swarthy Swahili-speaking servants, who practise animism, offer me a herbal potion and my exhaustion vanishes. My strength and courage return after a Turkish bath and a massage from native women with deft hands and pert little breasts. Though they warn me that robbery and rape are rife, and tell me of every sort of crime that befall lone women in the Zanzibar night, out I go regardless to explore the city.
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