THE
RESPECTFUL PROSTITUTE
(La Putain respectueuse)
TO MICHEL AND ZETTE LEIRIS
A PLAY IN ONE ACT AND TWO SCENES
CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY
LIZZIE
THE NEGRO
FRED
JOHN
JAMES THE SENATOR
SEVERAL MEN
La Putain respectueuse (The Respectful Prostitute) was
presented for the first time at the Theatre Antoine, Paris, on November 8,
1946.
SCENE ONE
A room in a Southern town of the United States. White walls.
A couch. To the right, a window; to the left, a bathroom door. In the
background, a small antechamber leading to the street. Before
the curtain rises, a roaring noise from the stage. LIZZIE is
alone, half dressed, running the
vacuum cleaner. The bell rings. She hesitates, looks toward
the door leading to the bathroom.
The bell rings again. She turns off the vacuum cleaner, goes
to the bathroom door, and half
opens it.
LIZZIE [in a low voice]: Someone is ringing, don't come out.
[She goes to open the door leading
to the street.
THE NEGRO appears in the doorway. He is a tall, strapping
Negro with white hair. He stands
stiffly.] What is it? You must have the wrong address. [A
pause.] What do you want? Speak up.
THE NEGRO [pleading]: Please ma'am, please.
LIZZIE: Please what? [She looks him over.] Wait a minute.
That was you on the train, wasn't it?
So you got away from them, eh? How did you find my place?
THE NEGRO: I looked, ma'am, I looked for it everywhere. [He
motions for permission to enter
the room.] Please!
LIZZIE: Don't come in. I have somebody here. What do you
want, anyway?
THE NEGRO: Please.
LIZZIE: Please what? Do you want money?
THE NEGRO. No, ma'am. [A pause.] Please tell them that I
didn't do anything.
LIZZIE: Tell who?
THE NEGRO: The judge. Tell him, ma'am, please tell him.
LIZZIE: I'll tell him nothing.
THE NEGRO. Please.
LIZZIE: Nothing doing. I'm not buying anybody else's
troubles, I got enough of my own. Beat it.
THE NEGRO: You know I didn't do anything. Did I do
something?
LIZZIE: Nothing. But I'm not going to the judge. Judges and
cops make me sick.
THE NEGRO: I left my wife and children. I've been running
and dodging all night. I'm dead
beat. LizzlE, Get out of town.
THE NEGRO: They're watching all the stations.
LIZZIE: Who's watching?
THE NEGRO: The white folks.
LIZZIE. Which white folks?
THE NEGRO All of them. Were you out this morning?
LIZZIE: No.
THE NEGRO: The streets are full of all kinds of white folks.
Old ones, young ones; they talk
without even knowing each other.
LIZZIE: What does that mean?
THE NEGRO: It means all I can do is run around until they
get me. When white folk who have
never met before, start to talk to each other, friendly
like, it means some nigger's goin' to die. [A
pause.] Say I haven't done anything, ma'am. Tell the judge;
tell the newspaper people. Maybe
they'll print it. Tell them, ma'am, tell them, tell them!
LIZZIE: Don't shout. I got somebody here. [A pause.]
Newspa-pers are out of the question. I
can't afford to call attention to myself right now. [A
pause.] If they force me to testify, I promise
to tell the truth.
THE NEGRO: Are you gonna tell them I haven't done anything?
LIZZIE: I'll tell them.
THE NEGRO You swear, ma'am?
LIZZIE. Yes, yes.
THE NEGRO By our Lord, who sees US all?
LIZZIE: Oh, get the hell out of here. I promise, that ought
to be enough. [A pause.] But get
going. Get out!
THE NEGRO [suddenly]: Please, won't you hide me?
LIZZIE- Hide you?
THE NEGRO: Won't you, ma'am? Won't you?
LIZZIE: Hide you! Me? I'll show you! [She slams the door in
his face.] And that's that! [She
turns toward the bathroom.] You can come out. [FRED emerges
in shirt sleeves, without collar
or tie.]
FRED: Who was that?
LIZZIE: Nobody.
FRED: I thought it was the police.
LIZZIE: The police? Are you mixed up with the police?
FRED: Me? No. I thought they came for you.
LIZZIE [offended]: You got a nerve! I never took a cent off
any-one!
FRED: Weren't you ever in trouble with the police?
LIZZIE: Not for stealing, anyway. [She busies herself with
the vac-uum cleaner.]
FRED [irritated by the noise]: Hey!
LIZZIE [shouting to make herself heard]: What's the matter,
honey?
FRED [shouting]: You're busting my eardrums.
LIZZIE [shouting]: I'll soon be finished. [A pause.] That's
the way I am.
FRED [shouting]: What?
LIZZIE [shouting]: I tell you I'm like that.
FRED [shouting]: Like what?
LIZZIE [shouting]: Like that. I can't help it, the next
morning I have to take a bath and run the
vacuum cleaner. [She leaves the vacuum cleaner.]
FRED [pointing toward the bed]: Cover that, while you're at
it.
LIZZIE: What?
FRED: The bed. I said you should cover the bed. It smells of
sin.
LIZZIE: Sin? How come you talk like that? Are you a
preacher?
FRED: No. Why?
LIZZIE: You sound like the Bible. [She looks at him.] No,
you're not a preacher: you're too well
dressed. Let's see your rings. [Admiringly] Say—look at
that! Are you rich?
FRED: Yes.
LIZZIE: Very rich?
FRED: Yes, very.
LIZZIE: So much the better. [She puts her arms around his
neck and holds up her lips to be
kissed.] It's better when a man is rich; you feel more
secure that way. [He is about to embrace
her, then turns away.]
FRED: Cover the bed.
LIZZIE: All right, all right. I'll cover it. [She covers the
bed and laughs to herself.] "It smells of
sin!" What do you know about that? You know, it's your
sin, honey. [FRED shakes his head.]
Yes, of course, it's mine too. But then, I've got so many on
my conscience— [She sits down on
the bed and forces FRED to sit beside her.] Come on. Sit on
our sin. A pretty nice sin, wasn't it?
[She laughs.] But don't lower your eyes like that. Do I
frighten you? [FRED crushes her against
him brutally.] You're hurting me! You're hurting me! [He
releases her.] You're a funny guy. You
seem to be in a bad mood. [After a while] Tell me your first
name. You don't want to? That
bothers me, not to know your first name. Really, it would be
the first time. They don't usually tell
me their last names, and I can understand that. But the
first name! How do you expect me to
know one of you from another if I don't know your first
names? Tell me, honey, go on.
FRED: No.
LIZZIE: Well, then, you can be the nameless gentleman. [She
gets up.] Wait. I'm going to finish
straightening things up. [She puts a few things in order.]
There we are. Everything's in place. The
chairs around the table: that's more refined. Do you know
anyone who sells prints? I'd like some
pictures on the wall. I have a lovely one in my trunk. The
Broken Pitcher, it's called. It shows a
young girl; she's broken her pitcher, poor thing. It's
French.
FRED: What pitcher?
LIZZIE: How should I know? Her pitcher. She must have had a
pitcher. I'd like to have an old
grandmother to match. She could be knitting, or telling her
grandchildren a story. I think I'll pull
up the shades and open the window. [She does.] How nice it
is outside! It's going to be a fine
day. [She stretches.] Oh, I feel good; it's a beautiful day,
I've taken a bath, I've had a good loving;
gee, I feel swell! How good I do feel! Come look at the view
I have. Look! I have a lovely view.
Nothing but trees, it makes you feel rich. I certainly had
luck: right off I found a roonn in a nice
place. Aren't you coming? Don't you like your own town?
FRED: I like it from my own window.
LIZZIE [suddenly]: It doesn't bring bad luck, to see a
nigger just after waking up, does it?
FRED: Why?
LIZZIE I—there's one going past down there, on the other
side of the street.
FRED: It's always bad luck when you. see a nigger. Niggers
are the Devil. [A pause.] Close the
window.
LIZZIE: Don't you wiint me to air the place?
FRED: I told you to close the window. O.K. And pull down the
shade. Put the lights on again.
LIZZIE: Why? Because of the niggers?
FRED: Don't be stupid!
LIZZIE: It's so nice and sunny.
FRED: I don't want Any sunshine in lbere. I want it to be
like it was last night. Close the
windovv, I said. I'll find the sun-shine again when I go
out. [He gets up, goes toward her, and
looks at her.]
LIZZIE [vaguely uneasy]: What's the rriatter?
FRED: Nothing. Give me my tie.
LIZZIE: It's in the bathroom. [She goes out. FRED hastily
opens the drawers of the table and
rummages through them. LIZZIE comes back with his tie.] Here
you are! Wait. [She ties it for
him.] You know, I don't usually take one-night stands
because then I have to see too many newfaces.
What I'd like would be to have three or four older men, one
for Tuesday, one for Thursday,
one for the weeitend. I'm telling you this: you're rather
young, but you are a serious fellow, and
should you ever feel the urge— Well, well, I won't insist.
Think it over. My, my! You're as pretty
as a picture. Kiss me, good-looking; kiss me just for the
hell of it. What's the matter? Don't you
want to kiss me? [He kisses her suddenly and brutally, then
pushes her away.] Oof!
FRED: You're the Devil.
LIZZIE: What?
FRED: You're the Devil.
LIZZIE: The Bible again! What's the matter with you?
FRED: Nothing. I was just kidding.
LIZZIE: Funny way to kid. [A pause.] Did you like it?
FRED: Like what?
LIZZIE [she mimics him, smiling]: Like what? My, but you're
stupid, my little lady.
FRED: Oh! Oh that? Yes, I liked it. I liked it fine. How
much do you want?
LIZZIE: Who said anything about that? I asked you if you
liked it. You might have answered me
nicely. What's the matter? You didn't really like it? Oh,
that would surprise me, you know, that
would surprise me very much.
FRED: Shut up.
LIZZIE: You held me tight, so tight. And then you whispered
that you loved me.
FRED: You were drunk.
LIZZIE: No, I was not drunk.
FRED: Yes, you were drunk.
LIZZIE: I tell you I wasn't.
FRED: In any case, I was. I don't remember anything.
LIZZIE. That's a pity. I got undressed in the bathroom, and
when I came back to you, you got all
red and flustered, don't you remember? I even said to you: "There's
my little lobster." Don't you
remember how you wanted to put out the light and how you
loved me in the dark? I thought that
was nice and respectful. Don't you remember?
FRED: No.
LIZZIE: And when we pretended we were two babies in the same
crib? Don't you remember
that?
FRED: I tell you to shut up. What's done at night belongs to
the night. In the daytime you don't
talk about it.
LIZZIE: And if it gives me a kick to talk about it? I had a
good time, you know.
FRED: Sure, you had a good time! [He approaches her, gently
kisses her shoulders, then takes
her by the throat.] You always enjoy yourself when you've
got a man wrapped up. [A pause.] I've
forgotten all about it, your wonderful night. Completely
forgotten it. I remember the dance hall,
that's all. If there was anything else, you're the only one
who remembers it. [He presses his hands
to her throat.]
LIZZIE: What are you doing?
FRED: Just holding your throat in my hands.
LIZZIE: You're hurting me.
FRED: You are the only one who remembers. If I were to
squeeze a tiny bit harder, there would
be no one in the world to remember last night. [He releases
her.] How much do you want?
LIZZIE: If you don't remember, it must be because I didn't
do my work well. I wouldn't charge
for a bad job.
FRED: Cut the comedy. How much?
LIZZIE: Look here; I've been in this place since the day
before yesterday. You were the first one
to visit me. The first cus-tomer gets me free; it brings
luck.
FRED: I don't need your presents. [He puts a ten-dollar bill
on the table.]
LIZZIE: I don't want your dough, but I'd like to know how
much you think I'm worth. Wait, let
me guess! [She picks up the bill with her eyes closed.]
Forty dollars? No, that's too much, and
anyway there would be two bills. Twenty dollars? No? Then
this must be more than forty dollars.
Fifty. A hundred? [All the while, FRED watches her, laughing
silently.] I hate to do this, but I'm
going to look. [She looks at the bill.] Haven't you made a
mistake?
FRED: I don't think So.
LIZZIE: You know what you gave me?
FRED: Yes.
LIZZIE: Take it back. Take it right back. [He makes a
gesture of refusal.] Ten dollars! Ten
dollars! That's what I call a good lay—a young girl like me
for ten dollars? Did you see my legs?
[She shows him her legs.] And my breasts? Did you see them?
Are these ten-dollar breasts? Take
your ten bucks and scram, before I get sore. Ten bucks. My
lord kisses me all over, my lord
keeps wanting to start all over again, my lord asks me to
tell him about my childhood, and this
morning my lord thinks he can crab, and complain, as if he
paid me by the month; and all for
how much? Not for forty, not for thirty, not for twenty: for
ten dollars!
FRED: For pigging around, that's a lot.
LIZZIE: Pig yourself. Where do you come from, you hayseed?
Your mother must have been a
fine slut if she didn't teach you to respect women.
FRED: Will you shut up?
LIZZIE: A fine bitch! A fine bitch!
FRED [with cold rage]: My advice to you, young woman, is
don't talk to the fellows around here
about their mothers, if you don't want to get your neck
twisted.
LIZZIE [approaching him]: Go on, strangle me! Strangle me!
Let's see you do it!
FRED [retreating]: Don't get excited. [LIZZIE takes a vase
from the table, with the evident
intention of throwing it at him.] Here's ten dollars more,
just don't get excited. Don't get excited
or I'll have you run in.
LIZZIE: You, you're going to have me run in?
FRED: Yes. Me.
LIZZIE: You?
FRED: Me.
LIZZIE: That I'd like to see!
FRED: I'm Clarke's son.
LIZZIE: Which Clarke?
FRED: Senator Clarke.
LIZZIE: Yeah? And I'm Roosevelt's daughter.
FRED: Have you ever seen a picture of Senator Clarke in the
papers?
LIZZIE: Yeah. So what?
FRED: Here it is. [He shows her a photograph.] I'm there
next to him. He's got his arm around
my shoulder.
LIZZIE [suddenly calm]: Look at that! Gosh, he's a
good-looking man, your father. Let me see.
[FRED snatches the photograph out of her hands.]
FRED: That's enough.
LIZZIE: He looks so nice—sorta kind and yet firm! Is it true
that he's got a silver tongue? [He
doesn't answer.] Is this your garden?
FRED: Yes.
LIZZIE: He looks so tall. And those little girls on the
chairs—are they your sisters? [He doesn't
reply.] Is your house on the hill?
FRED: Yes.
LIZZIE: Then, when you get your breakfast in the morning,
you can see the whole town from
your window?
FRED: Yes.
LIZZIE: Do they ring a bell at mealtime to call you? You
might answer me.
FRED: We have a gong for that.
LIZZIE [in ecstasy]: A gong! I don't understand you. With
such a family and such a house, you'd
have to pay me to sleep out. [A pause.] I'm sorry I said
that about your mother; I was mad. Is she
in the picture too?
FRED: I've forbidden you to talk about her.
LIZZIE: All right, all right. [A pause.] Can I ask you a
question? [He doesn't answer.] If it
disgusts you to make love, why did you come here to me? [He
doesn't answer. She sighs.] Well,
as long as I'm here, I guess I'll have to get used to your
ways. [A pause. FRED combs his hair in
front of the mirror.]
FRED: You're from up North?
LIZZIE: Yes.
FRED: From New York?
LIZZIE: What's it to you?
FRED: You spoke of New York, just before.
LIZZIE: Anyone can talk about New York. That doesn't prove a
thing.
FRED: Why didn't you stay up there?
LIZZIE: I was fed up.
FRED: Trouble?
LIZZIE: Yes, sure. I attract trouble; some people are like
that. You see this snake? [She shows
him her bracelet.] It brings bad luck.
FRED: Why do you wear it?
LIZZIE: As long as I have it, I have to keep it. It's
supposed to be pretty awful—a snake's
revenge.
FRED: You were the one the nigger tried to rape?
LIZZIE: What's that?
FRED: You arrived the day before yesterday, on the
six-o'clock express?
LIZZIE: Yes.
FRED: Then you must be the one.
LIZZIE: No one tried to rape me. [She laughs, not without a
trace of bitterness.] Rape me! That's
a good one!
FRED: It's you; Webster told me yesterday, on the dance
floor.
LIZZIE: Webster? [A pause.] So that's it!
FRED: That's what?
LIZZIE: SO that's what made your eyes shine. It excited you,
huh? You bastard! With such a
good father.
FRED: You little fool! [A pause.] If I thought you had slept
with a nigger—
LIZZIE: Go on.
FRED: I have five colored servants. When they call me to the
phone, they wipe it off before they
hand it to me.
LIZZIE [whistles admiringly]: I see.
FRED [calmly]: We don't like niggers too much here, and we
don't like white folk who play
around with them.
LIZZIE: That'll do. I have nothing against them, but I don't
like them to touch me.
FRED: How could anyone be sure? You are the Devil. The
nigger is the Devil too. [Abruptly] So
he tried to rape you?
LIZZIE: What's it to you?
FRED: The two of them came over to your seat. Then after a
while they jumped on you. You
called for help and some white people came. One of the
niggers flashed his razor, and a white
man shot him. The other nigger got away.
LIZZIE: Is that what Webster told you?
FRED: Yes.
LIZZIE: Where did he get that story?
FRED: It's all over town.
LIZZIE: All over town? That's just my luck. Haven't you got
anything else to talk about?
FRED: Did it happen the way I said?
LIZZIE: Not at all. The two niggers kept to themselves and
didn't even look at me. Then four
white men got on the train, and two of them made passes at
me. They had just won a foot-ball
game, and they were drunk. They said that they could smell
nigger and wanted to throw them out
of the window. The blacks fought back as well as they could,
and one of the white men got
punched in the eye. And that was when he pulled out a gun
and fired. That was all. The other
nigger jumped off the train as we were coming into the station.
FRED: We know who it is. He'll gain nothing by waiting. [A
pause.] When you come up before
the judge, are you going to tell him the story you just told
me?
LIZZIE: What's it to you?
FRED: Answer me.
LIZZIE: I am not coming up before any judge. I told you I
hate any trouble.
FRED: You'll have to appear in court.
LIZZIE: I won't go. I don't want anything more to do with
the cops.
FRED: They'll come and get you.
LIZZIE: Then I'll tell them what I saw. [A pause.]
FRED: Do you realize what that means?
LIZZIE: What does that mean?
FRED: It means testifying against a white man in behalf of a
nigger.
LIZZIE: But suppose the white man is guilty.
FRED: He isn't guilty.
LIZZIE: Since he killed, he's guilty.
FRED: Guilty of what?
LIZZIE: Of killing!
FRED: But it was a nigger he killed.
LIZZIE: So what?
FRED: If you were guilty every time you killed a nigger—
LIZZIE: He had no right. FRED: What right?
LIZZIE: He had no right.
FRED: That right comes from up North. [A pause.] Guilty or
not, you can't punish a fellow of
your own race.
LIZZIE: I don't want to have anyone punished. They'll just
ask me what I saw, and I'll tell them.
[A pause. FRED comes up to her.]
FRED: What is there between you and this nigger? Why are you
protecting him?
LIZZIE: I don't even know him.
FRED: Then what's the trouble?
LIZZIE: I just want to tell the truth.
FRED: The truth! A ten-dollar whore who wants to tell the
truth! There is no truth; there's only
whites and blacks, that's all. Seventeen thousand white men,
twenty thousand niggers. This isn't
New York; we can't fool around down here. [A pause.] Thomas
is my cousin.
LIZZIE: What?
FRED: Thomas, the one who killed the nigger; he's my cousin.
LIZZIE [surprised]: Oh!
FRED: He comes from a good family. That might not mean much
to you, but he's from a good
family all the same.
LIZZIE: Good! A guy who kept rubbing up against me and tried
to put his hand under my skirt. I
can do without such gen-tlemen. I'm not surprised that you
both come from the same family.
FRED [raising his hand]: You dirty bitch! [He controls
himself.] You are the Devil, and with the
Devil you can't win. He put his hand under your skirt, he
shot down a dirty nigger; so what? You
do things like that without thinking; they don't count.
Thomas is a leading citizen, that's what
counts.
LIZZIE: Maybe so. But the nigger didn't do anything.
FRED: A nigger has always done something.
LIZZIE: I'd never rat on anyone.
FRED If it's not on him, it'll be on Thomas. You'll have to
give away one of them, whatever you
do. You'll just have to choose.
LIZZIE: So there we are! Here's me in it up to my neck—just
for a change. [To her bracelet] God
damn you, can't you pick on anyone else? [She throws the
bracelet on the floor.]
FRED: How much do you want?
LIZZIE: I don't want a cent.
FRED. Five hundred dollars.
LIZZIE: Not a cent.
FRED: It would take you much more than one night to earn
five hundred dollars.
LIZZIE. Especially if all I get is tightwads like you. [A
pause.] So that's why you picked me up
last night?
FRED: Oh, hell.
LIZZIE: So that was why. You said to yourself: "There's
the babe. I'll go home with her and
arrange the whole thing." So that's what you wanted!
You tickled my hand, but you were as cold
as ice. You were thinking: "How'll I get her to do
it?" [A pause.] But tell me this! Tell me this,
my boy. If you came up here with me to talk business, did
you have to sleep with me? Huh? Why
did you sleep with me, you bastard? Why did you sleep with
me?
FRED: Damned if I know.
LIZZIE [sinks into a chair, weeping]: Oh, you dirty, filthy
bastard!
FRED: Five hundred dollars. Don't cry, for Christ's sake!
Five hundred dollars! Stop bawling!
Stop bawling! Look, Lizzie! Lizzie! Be reasonable! Five
hundred dollars!
LIZZIE [sobbing]: I'm not reasonable, and I don't want your
five hundred dollars. I just don't
want to bear false witness. I want to go back to New York, I
want to get out of here! I want to get
out of here! [The bell rings. Startled, she stops crying.
The bell rings again. Whispering] Who is
it? Be quiet. [A long ring.] I won't open. Be still.
[Knocking on the door.]
A VOICE: Open up. Police.
LIZZIE [in a low voice]: The cops. I knew it had to happen.
[She exhibits the bracelet.] It's this
thing's fault. [She kisses it and puts it back on her arm.]
I guess I'd better keep it on me. Hide.
[Knocking on the door.]
THE VOICE: Police!
LIZZIE: But why don't you go hide? Go in the toilet. [He
doesn't budge. She pushes him with all
her strength.] Well, go on! Get out!
THE VOICE: Are you there, Fred? Fred? Are you there?
FRED: Yes, I'm here. [He brushes her aside. She looks at him
with amazement.]
LIZZIE: So that's what you were after! [FRED opens the door
and admits JOHN and JAMES
The door to the street remains open.]
JOHN: Police. Are you Lizzie MacKay?
LIZZIE [without hearing him, continues to look at FRED]: So
that's why!
JOHN [shaking her by the shoulder]: Answer when you are
spo-ken to.
LIZZIE: What? Yes, that's me.
JOHN: Your papers.
LIZZIE [makes an effort to control herself]: What right have
you got to question me? What are
you doing in my place? [JOHN shows his badge.] Anyone can
wear a star. You're buddies of my
fine gentleman here and you're ganging up on me to make me
talk. JOHN [showing his police
card]: You know what that is?
LIZZIE [indicating JAMES]: How about him?
JOHN [to JAMES]: Show her your card. [JAMES shows it to her.
LIZZIE looks at it, goes to the
table, with-out saying anything, pulls out some papers, and
gives them to the men.]
JOHN [pointing to FRED]: You brought him here last night,
right? You know that prostitution is
against the law?
LIZZIE: Are you sure you can come in here without a warrant?
Aren't you afraid I'll make
trouble for you?
JOHN: Don't you worry about us. [A pause.] I asked if you
brought him up here to your place?
LIZZIE [since the police entered she has changed; she has
become more hard and vulgar]: Don't
crack your skull. sure, I brought him up to my place. I let
him have it for f'tee. That burns you
up, doesn't it?
FRED: You will find two ten-dollar bills on the 'table. They
are mine.
LIZZIE: Prove it!
FRED [to the two others, without looking at her]: I lipicked
them up at the bank yesterday
morning with twenty'-eight others of the same series. You've
only got to check 1:up on the serial
numbers.
LIZZIE [violently]: I wouldn't take them. I refused his filthy
money. I threw it in his face.
JOHN: If you refused, why is it lying on the table?
LIZZIE [after a pause]: That does it. [She looks at FRED in
a kind of stupor and says, almost
tenderly] So that's whtat you were up to? [To the others]
Well, what do you want?
JOHN: Sit down. [To FRED] You told her what's what? [FRED
nods.] I told you to sit down.
[He pushes her into a chair.] The judge agrees to let Thomas
go if he has a signed statement from
you. The statement has already been writken for you; all you
have to do is sign it. Tomorrow
there'll be a formal hearing. Can you read? [LIZZIE shrugs
her shoulders, and he hands her a
paper.] Read it and sign.
LIZZIE: Lies from beginning to end.
JOHN: Maybe so. So what?
LIZZIE: I won't sign.
FRED: Take her along. [To LIZZIE] It's eighteen mokiths, you
know.
LIZZIE: Eighteen months, yes. But when I get out, I'll fry
your hide.
FRED: Not if I can help it. [They look at each other.] You
might telegraph New York; I think
she's wanted up there for something.
LIZZIE [admiringly]: You're as bitchy as a woman. I never
thought I'd meet a guy who could be
such a bastard.
JOHN: Make up your mind. Either you sign or it's the cooler.
LIZZIE: I prefer the cooler. I don't want to lie.
FRED: Not lie, you slut! And what did you do all night? When
you called me "honey baby,"
"lover man," I suppose you weren't lying. When you
sighed to make me think I was giving you a
thrill, weren't you lying?
LIZZIE [defiantly]: You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?
No, I wasn't lying. [They stare at each
other.
FRED looks away.]
FRED: Let's get this over with. Here's my fountain pen.
Sign.
LIZZIE: You can put it away. [A pause. The three men seem
embarrassed.]
FRED: So that's the way it is! The finest fellow in town,
and his life depends on the whim of a
floozy like this! [He walks up and down, then comes abruptly
up to LIZZIE] Look at him. [He
shows her a photograph.] You've seen a man or two, in your
filthy trade. Have you ever seen a
face like that? Look at that forehead, look at that chin,
look at the medals on his uniform. No, no,
don't look away. There is no getting out of it: here's your
victim, you have got to face him. See
how young he is, how straight he stands. Isn't he handsome?
But don't you worry, when he
leaves prison, ten years from now, he will be bent like an
old man, bald and toothless. But you'll
be proud of your good work. You were just a little chiseler
until now; but this time, you're
dealing with a real man, and you want to take his life. What
do you say to that? Are you rotten to
the core? [He forces her to her knees.] On your knees,
whore. On your knees before the picture
of the man you want to dishonor! [CLARKE enters through the
door they have left open.]
THE SENATOR: Let her go. [To LIZZIE]: Get up.
FRED: Hello!
JOHN: Hello!
THE SENATOR: Hello! Hello!
JOHN [to LIZZIE]: Meet Senator Clarke.
THE SENATOR [to LIZZIE]: Hello!
LIZZIE: Hello!
THE SENATOR: Fine! Now we've all been introduced. [He looks
at Lizzta] So this is the young
lady. She impresses me as a mighty nice girl.
FRED: She doesn't want to sign.
THE SENATOR: She is perfectly right. You break in on her
without having the right to do so.
[Then, more forcefully, to forestall JOHN] Without having
the slightest right to do so. You are
brutal to her, and you try to make her go against her own
conscience. This is not the American
way. Did the Negro rape you, my child?
LIZZIE: No.
THE SENATOR: Excellent. So that is clear. Look me in the
eyes. [He looks at her fixedly.] I am
sure she is telling the truth. [A pause.] Poor Mary! [To the
others] Well, boys, let's go. There is
nothing more to be done here. Let's make our apologies to
the young lady and go.
LIZZIE: Who's Mary?
THE SENATOR: Mary? She is my sister, the mother of this
unfor-tunate Thomas. A poor, dear
old lady, who is going to be killed by all this. Good-by, my
child.
LIZZIE [in a choking voice]: Senator!
THE SENATOR: My child?
LIZZIE: I'm sorry.
THE SENATOR: Why should you be sorry, when you have told the
truth?
LIZZIE: I am sorry that—that that's the truth.
THE SENATOR: There is nothing either of us can do about
that. And no one has the right to ask
you to bear false witness. [A pause.] No. Don't think of her
any more.
LIZZIE: Who?
THE SENATOR: Of my sister. Weren't you thinking about my
sister?
LIZZIE: Yes.
THE SENATOR: I can read your mind, my child. Do you want me
to tell you what's going on in
your head? [Imitating LIZZIE]"lf I signed, the Senator
would go to her and say: 'Lizzie MacKay
is a good girl, and she's the one who's giving your son back
to you.' And she would smile
through her tears. She would say: 'Lizzie MacKay? I shall
not forget that name.' And I who have
no family, relegated by cruel fate to social banishment, I
would know that a dear little old lady
was thinking of me in her great house; that an American mother
had taken me to her heart." Poor
Lizzie, think no more about it.
LIZZIE: Has she white hair?
THE SENATOR: Completely white. But her face has stayed
young. And if you could see her
smile— She'll never smile again. Good-by. Tomorrow you shall
tell the judge the truth.
LIZZIE. Are you going?
THE SENATOR: Why, yes; I am going to her house. I shall have
to tell her about our
conversation.
LIZZIE: She knows you are here?
THE SENATOR: She begged me to come to you.
LIZZIE My God! And she's waiting? And you're going to tell
her that I refused to sign. How she
will hate me!
THE SENATOR [putting his hands on her shoulders]: My poor
child, I wouldn't want to be in
your shoes.
LIZZIES What a mess! [Addressing her bracelet] It's all your
fault, you filthy thing.
THE SENATOR: What?
LIZZIE. Nothing. [A pause.] As things stand, it's too bad
the nig-ger didn't really rape me.
THE SENATOR [touched]: My child.
LIZZIE [sadly]: It would have meant so much to you, and it
would have been so little trouble for
me.
THE SENATOR: Thank you. [A pause.] I should so like to help
you. [A pause.] Alas, the truth is
the truth.
LIZZIE [sadly]: Yeah, sure.
THE SENATOR And the truth is that the Negro didn't rape you.
LIZZIE [sadly still]: Yeah, sure.
THE SENATOR: Yes. [A pause.] Of course, here we have a truth
of the first degree.
LIZZIE [not understanding]: Of the first degree.
THE SENATOR: Yes. I mean—a common truth.
LIZZIE: Common? Isn't that the truth?
THE SENATOR: Yes, yes, it is the truth. It's just that—there
are various kinds of truths. uzziE:
You think the nigger raped me?
THE SENATOR: No. No, he didn't rape you. From a certain
point of view, he didn't rape you at
all. But, you see, I am an old man, who has lived a long
time, who has made many mis-takes, but
for some time now I have been a little less often mistaken.
And my opinion about this is utterly
different from yours.
LIZZIE: What opinion?
THE SENATOR: How can I explain it to you? Look: suppose
Uncle Sam suddenly stood before
you. What would he say?
LIZZIE [frightened]: I don't suppose he would have much of
any-thing to say to me.
THE SENATOR: Are you a Communist?
LIZZIE: Good Lord, no!
THE SENATOR: Then Uncle Sam would have many things to tell
you. He would say: "Lizzie,
you have reached a point where you must choose between two
of my boys. One of them must go.
What can you do in a case like this? Well, you keep the
better man. Well, then, let us try to see
which is the better one. Will you?"
LIZZIE [carried away]: Yes, I want to. Oh, I am sorry, I
thought it was you saying all that.
THE SENATOR: I was speaking in his name. [He goes on, as
before.] "Lizzie, this Negro whom
you are protecting, what good is he? Somehow or other he was
born, God knows where. I
nourished and raised him, and how does he pay me back? What
does he do for me? Nothing at
all; he dawdles, he chisels, he sings, he buys pink and
green suits. He is my son, and I love him
as much as I do my other boys. But I ask you: does he live
like a man? I would not even notice if
he died."
LIZZIE: My, how fine you talk.
THE SENATOR [in the same vein]: "The other one, this
Thomas, has killed a Negro, and that's
very bad. But I need him. He is a hundred-per-cent American,
comes from one of our old-est
families, has studied at Harvard, is an officer—I need
officers—he employs two thousand
workers in his factory—two thousand unemployed if he
happened to die. He's a leader, a firm
bulwark against the Communists, labor unions, and the Jews.
His duty is to live, and yours is to
preserve his life. That's all. Now, choose."
LIZZIE: My, how well you talk!
THE SENATOR: Choose! LizziE [startled]: How's that? Oh yes.
[A pause.] You mixed me up, I
don't know where I am.
THE SENATOR: Look at me, Lizzie. Do you have confidence in
me?
LIZZIE: Yes, Senator.
THE SENATOR: Do you believe that I would urge you to do
any-thing wrong?
LIZZIE: No, Senator.
THE SENATOR: Then I urge you to sign. Here is my pen.
LIZZIE: You think she'll be pleased with me?
THE SENATOR: Who?
LIZZIE: Your sister.
THE SENATOR: She will love you, from a distance, as her very
own child.
LIZZIE: Perhaps she'll send me some flowers?
THE SENATOR: Very likely.
LIZZIE: Or her picture with an inscription.
THE SENATOR: It's quite possible.
LIZZIE: I'd hang it on the wall. [A pause. She walks up and
down, much agitated.] What a mess!
[Coming up to THE SENATOR again] What will you do to the
nigger if I sign?
THE SENATOR: To the nigger? Pooh! [He takes her by the
shoul-ders.] If you sign, the whole
town will adopt you. The whole town. All the mothers in it.
LIZZIE: But —
THE SENATOR: Do you suppose that a whole town could be
mis-taken? A whole town, with its
ministers and its priests, its doctors, its lawyers, its
artists, its mayor and his aides, with all its
charities? Do you think that could happen?
LIZZIE: No, no, no.
THE SENATOR. Give me your hand. [He forces her to sign.] So
now it's done. I thank you in
the name of my sister and my nephew, in the name of the
seventeen thousand white in-habitants
of our town, in the name of the American people, whom I
represent in these parts. Give me your
forehead, my child. [He kisses her on the forehead.] Come
along, boys. [To uzziE] I shall see
you later in the evening; we still have something to talk
about. [He goes out.]
FRED [leaving]: Good-by, Lizzie.
LIZZIE: Good-by. [They all go out. She stands there
overwhelmed, then rushes to the door.]
Senator! Senator! I don't want to sign! Tear up the paper!
Senator! [She comes back to the front
of the stage and mechanically takes hold of the vacuum
cleaner.] Uncle Sam! [She turns on the
sweeper.] Something tells me I've been had—but good! [She
pushes the vacuum cleaner furiously.]
CURTAIN
SCENE TWO
Same setting, twelve hours later. The lamps are lit, the
windows are open. In the night, a
growing clamor outside. THE NEGRO appears at the window,
straddles the window-sill, and
jumps into the empty room. He crosses to the middle of the
stage. The bell rings. He hides behind
a curtain. LIZZIE emerges from the bathroom, crosses to the
street door, and opens it.
LIZZIE: Come in! [THE SENATOR enters.] Well?
THE SENATOR Thomas is in the arms of his mother. I have come
to bring you their thanks.
LIZZIE. Is she happy?
THE SENATOR: Supremely happy.
LIZZIE: Did she cry?
THE SENATOR: Cry? Why should she cry? She is a woman of
character.
LIZZIE. But you said she would cry.
THE SENATOR: That was just a manner of speaking.
LIZZIE. She didn't expect this, did she? She thought I was a
bad woman and that I would testify
for the nigger.
THE SENATOR She put her trust in God.
LIZZIE What does she think of me?
THE SENATOR: She thanks you.
LIZZIE: Didn't she ask what I looked like?
THE SENATOR: No.
LIZZIE She thinks I'm a good girl?
THE SENATOR: She thinks you did your duty.
LIZZIE: She does?
THE SENATOR She hopes that you will continue to do it.
LIZZIE: Oh yes, yes.
THE SENATOR: Lizzie, look me in the eyes. [He takes her by
the shoulders.] You will continue
to do your duty? You aren't going to disappoint her?
LIZZIE: Don't you worry. I can't go back on what I said;
they'd throw me in the clink. [A pause.]
What's all that shouting about?
THE SENATOR: Pay no attention.
LIZZIE: I can't stand it any more. [She closes the window.]
Senator?
THE SENATOR: My child?
LIZZIE: You are sure that we haven't made a mistake, that I
really did what I should?
THE SENATOR: Absolutely sure.
LIZZIE: I don't know where I am any more; you've mixed me
up; you're too quick for me. What
time is it?
THE SENATOR: Eleven o'clock.
LIZZIE: Eight hours left until daylight. I know I won't be
able to sleep a wink. [A pause.] It's just
as hot at night here as when the sun is up. [A pause.] What
about the nigger?
THE SENATOR: What Negro? Oh, yes, of course, they are
looking for him.
LIZZIE: What will they do to him? [THE SENATOR shrugs his
shoulders. The shouting outside
increases. LIZZIE goes to the window.] What is all this
shouting for? Men are running about
with flashlights and dogs. Are they celebrating something?
Or—Tell me what's up, Senator! Tell
me what's going on!
THE SENATOR [taking a letter out of his pocket]: My sister
asked me to give you this.
LIZZIE [with interest]: She's written me? [She tears open
the en-velope, and takes from it a
hundred-dollar bill, rummages in it to find a letter, finds
none, crushes the envelope, and throws
it on the floor. She takes a different tone now.] A hundred
dollars. You've done very well; your
son promised me five hundred. You got a bargain.
THE SENATOR: My child.
LIZZIE. You can thank the lady. You can tell her that I'd
rather've had a porcelain vase or some
nylons, something she took the trouble to pick out for me
herself. But it's the in-tention that
counts, isn't it? [A pause.] You've had me good. [They face
each other. THE SENATOR moves
closer to her.]
THE SENATOR: I thank you, my child; we'll have a little
talk—just the two of us. You're facing
a moral crisis and need my help.
LIZZIE: What I particularly need is some dough, but I think
we can make a deal, you and me. [A
pause.] Until now I liked old men best, because they looked
so respectable, but I'm beginning to
wonder if they're not more crooked than the others.
THE SENATOR [gaily]: Crooked! I wish my colleagues could
hear you. What wonderful
frankness! There is something in you that your deplorable
circumstances have not spoiled! [He
pats her.] Yes indeed. Something. [She submits to him,
passive but scornful.] I'll be back, don't
bother to see me out. [He goes out. LIZZIE is immobile, as
if paralyzed. She picks up the bill,
crumples it, throws it on the floor, falls into a chair, and
bursts into sobs. Outside, the yelling is
closer and more intense. Pistol-shots in the distance. THE
NEGRO emerges from his hidingplace.
He plants himself in front of her. She raises her head and
gives a startled cry.]
LIZZIE: Ah! [A pause. She rises.] I knew you'd show up. I
just knew it. How did you get in?
THE NEGRO: Through the window.
LIZZIE: What do you want?
THE NEGRO: Hide me.
LIZZIE: I told you, no.
THE NEGRO: You hear them out there, ma'am?
LIZZIE: Yes.
THE NEGRO: That's the beginning of the hunt.
LIZZIE: What hunt?
THE NEGRO: The nigger hunt.
LIZZIE. Oh! [A long pause.] Are you sure no one saw you come
in?
THE NEGRO: Yes, I'm sure.
LIZZIE: What will they do to you if they get you?
THE NEGRO: Gasoline.
LIZZIE: What?
THE NEGRO: Gasoline. [He makes an expressive gesture.]
They'll set me on fire.
LIZZIE: I see. [She goes to the window and draws the
curtain.] Sit down. [THE NEGRO falls
into a chair.] You just had to come here! Won't I ever get
out of this? [She approaches him
almost threateningly.] I hate trouble, don't you understand!
[Tapping her foot.] I hate it! I hate it!
I hate it!
THE NEGRO: They think I harmed you, ma'am.
LIZZIE: So what?
THE NEGRO: So they won't look for me here.
LIZZIE: Do you know why they are after you?
THE NEGRO: Because they suppose I wronged you, ma'am.
LIZZIE: Do you know who told them that?
THE NEGRO: No.
LIZZIE: I did. [A long silence. THE NEGRO looks at her.]
What do you think of that?
THE NEGRO: Why did you do that, ma'am? Oh, why did you do
that?
LIZZIE: That's what I keep asking myself.
THE NEGRO: They won't have any pity; they'll whip me across
the eyes, they'll pour their cans
of gas over me. Oh, why did you do it? I didn't harm you.
LIZZIE: Oh yes, you did too. You can't imagine how much
you've harmed me. [A pause.] Don't
you want to choke me?
THE NEGRO: Lots of times they force people to say things
they don't mean.
LIZZIE: Yes, lots of times. And when they can't force them,
they mix them up with their sweet
talk. [A pause.] Well? No? You're not going to choke me?
You're a good guy. [A pause.] I'll hide
you until tomorrow night. [He makes a move.] Don't touch me;
I don't like niggers. [Shouts and
pistol-shots out-side.] They're getting closer. [She goes to
the window, draws the curtains, and
looks out into the street.] We're cooked.
THE NEGRO: What are they doing?
LIZZIE: They've put guards at both ends of the block, and
they are searching all the houses. You
just had to come here. Someone must have seen you come down
the street. [She looks out again.]
This is it. It's our turn. They are coming up here.
THE NEGRO: How many?
LIZZIE: Five or six. The others are waiting outside. [She
turns toward him again.] Don't shake
so. Good God, don't shake so! [A pause. To her bracelet]
It's all your fault! You pig of a snake!
[She tears it from her arm, throws it on the floor, and
tramples on it.] Trash! [To THE NEGRO]
You just had to come here. [THE NEGRO rises, as if about to
leave.] Stay put. If you go out
you're done for.
THE NEGRO: What about the roof?
LIZZIE: With this moon? You can go on up if you feel like
being a target. [A pause.] Wait a
second. They have two floors to search before ours. I told
you not to shake so. [A long silence.
She walks up and down. THE NEGRO, completely overcome, stays
in the chair.] Do you have a
gun?
THE NEGRO: Oh, no!
LIZZIE: All right. [She rummages in a drawer and brings out
a revolver.]
THE NEGRO: What's that for, ma'am?
LIZZIE: I am going to open the door and ask them to come in.
For twenty-five years I have had
to take their crap about old mothers with white hair, about
war heroes, about Uncle Sam. But
now I've caught on. They won't get away with it altogether.
I'll open the door and say to them:
"He's inside. He's here, but he's done nothing: I was
forced to sign a false statement. I swear by
Christ that he did nothing."
THE NEGRO: They won't believe you.
LIZZIE: Maybe not. Maybe they won't believe me; but then
you'll cover them with the gun, and
if they still come after you, you can shoot.
THE NEGRO: Others will come.
LIZZIE: Shoot them too! And if you see the Senator's son,
try not to miss him; he's the one who
cooked this whole thing up.
We're cornered, aren't we? Anyhow, this is our last chance
'cause if they find you here with me I
won't be worth a plugged nickel. So we might as well kick
off in company. [She offers him the
revolver.] Take it! I tell you to take it!
THE NEGRO: I can't, ma'am.
LIZZIE: Why not?
THE NEGRO: I can't shoot white folks.
LIZZIE: Really! That would bother them, wouldn't it?
THE NEGRO: They're white folks, ma'am.
LIZZIE: So what? Maybe they got a right to bleed you like a
pig just because they're white?
THE NEGRO: But they're white folks.
LIZZIE: What a laugh! You know, you're like me; you're just
as big a sucker as I am. Still, when
they all get together—
THE NEGRO: Why don't you shoot, ma'am?
LIZZIE: I told you that I'm a sucker. [There are steps on
the stair-way.] Here they come. [A
sharp laugh.] We're sure sitting pretty. [A pause.] Get in
the toilet and don't budge. Hold your
breath. [THE NEGRO obeys. LIZZIE waits. The bell rings. She
crosses herself picks up the
bracelet, and goes to open the door. There are men with
guns.]
FIRST MAN: We're looking for the nigger.
LIZZIE: What nigger?
FIRST MAN: The one that raped the woman in the train and cut
the Senator's nephew with a
razor.
LIZZIE: Well, by God, you won't find him here! [A pause.] Don't
you recognize me?
SECOND MAN: Yes, yes. I saw you get off the train the day
before yesterday.
LIZZIE: That's right. Because I'm the one who was raped, you
understand? [Exclamations. They
look at her with fascination, desire, and a kind of horror.
They draw back a little.] If he messes
around here, he'll get a little of this. [She flourishes the
revolver. They laugh.]
FIRST MAN: Don't you want to see him lynched?
LIZZIE: Come for me when you get him.
FIRST MAN: That won't be long, sugar; we know he's hiding in
this block.
LIZZIE: Good luck. [They go out. She shuts the door and puts
the revolver on the table.] You
can come out. [THE NEGRO emerges, kneels, and kisses the hem
of her skirt.] I told you not to
touch me. [She looks him over.] Just the same, you must be a
queer character, to have a whole
town after you.
THE NEGRO: I didn't do anything, ma'am, you know I didn't do
anything.
LIZZIE: They say a nigger's always done something.
THE NEGRO: Never did anything. Never, never.
LIZZIE [wiping her brow with her hand]: I don't know what's
right any more. [A pause.] Just the
same, a whole city can't be completely wrong. [A pause.] Oh,
shit! I don't understand anything
any more.
THE NEGRO: That's how it goes, ma'am. That's how it always
goes with white folks.
LIZZIE: You too? You feel guilty?
THE NEGRO: Yes, ma'am.
LIZZIE: But you didn't do anything?
THE NEGRO: No, ma'am.
LIZZIE: What have they got anyhow, that everybody's on their
side all the time?
THE NEGRO: They're white folks.
LIZZIE: I'm white too. [A pause. Sound of steps outside.]
They're coming down again.
[Instinctively she steps closer to him. He trembles, but
puts his arms around her shoulders. The
sound of steps is fainter. Silence. She suddenly frees
herself from his em-brace.] Well, look at us,
now! Aren't we alone in the world? Like two orphans. [The
bell rings. They make no answer.
The bell rings again.] Get in the toilet. [There is a
rapping on the front door. THE NEGRO hides.
LIZZIE goes to open the door. Enter FRED.]
LIZZIE: Are you crazy? Why come to my door? No, you can't
come in, you've given me enough
trouble. Get out, get out, you bastard, get out! Get the
hell out of here! [He pushes her aside,
closes the door, and takes her by the shoulder. A long
pause.] Well?
FRED: You are the Devil!
LIZZIE: And so you try to break down my door just to tell me
that? What a mess! Where have
you been? [A pause.] Answer me.
FRED: They caught a nigger. It wasn't the right one. But
they lynched him just the same.
LIZZIE: So?
FRED: I was with them.
LIZZIE [whistles]: I see. [A pause.] It begins to look as if
seeing a nigger lynched does
something to you.
FRED: I want you.
LIZZIE: What?
FRED: You are the Devil. You've bewitched me. I was with
them, I had my revolver in my hand,
and the nigger was swinging from a branch. I looked at him,
and I thought: "I want her." It's not
natural.
LIZZIE: Let go of me! I tell you let go of me.
FRED: What have you done to me, what have you got, you
witch? I looked at the nigger and I
saw you. I saw you swaying above the flames. I fired.
LIZZIE: You filthy bastard! Let me go, let me go. You're a
murderer!
FRED: What have you done to me? You stick to me like the
teeth in my gums. I see your belly,
your dirty whorish belly, I feel your heat in my hands, your
smell in my nostrils. I came running
here, and I didn't even know whether I wanted to kill you or
rape you. Now I know. [He releases
her abruptly.] I am not going to damn my soul to hell for a
whore. [He comes up to her again.]
Was it true what you told me this morning?
LIZZIE: What?
FRED: That I gave you a thrill?
LIZZIE: Let me alone.
FRED: Swear that it's true. Swear it! [He twists her wrist.
There is a noise of someone moving in
the bathroom.] What's that? [He listens.] Someone's in
there.
LIZZIE: You're out of your mind. There's nobody.
FRED: Yes, in the toilet. [He goes toward the bathroom]
LIZZIE: You can't go in.
FRED: You see, there is someone.
LIZZIE: It's today's customer. A guy who pays. There. Are
you satisfied?
FRED: A customer? No more customers for you. Never any more.
You belong to me. [A pause.]
I must see what he looks like. [He shouts.] Come out of
there!
LIZZIE [shouting]: Don't come out. It's a trap.
FRED: You filthy little whore! [He shoves her out of the
way, goes toward the door, and opens
it. THE NEGRO comes out.] So that's your customer?
LIZZIE: I hid him because they wanted to hurt him. Don't
shoot; you know very well that he's
innocent. [FRED draws his re-volver. THE NEGRO gets set,
pushes FRED Out of the way, and
dashes out. FRED runs after him. LIZZIE runs to the door,
through which the two men have
disappeared, and begins to shout.]
LIZZIE: He's innocent! He's innocent! [Two pistol-shots. She
comes back into the room, her face
hard. She goes to the table and takes the gun. FRED comes
back. She turns toward him, her back
to the audience, holding her gun behind her back. FRED puts
his gun on the table.] So you got
him? [FRED doesn't answer.] Well, now it's your turn. [She
covers him with the revolver.]
FRED: Lizzie! I have a mother!
LIZZIE: Shut your face! They pulled that on me before.
FRED [approaching her slowly]: The first Clarke cleared a
whole forest, just by himself; he
killed seventeen Indians with his bare hands before dying in
an ambush; his son practically built
this town; he was friends with George Washington, and died
at Yorktown, for American
independence; my great-grandfather was chief of the
Vigilantes in San Fran-cisco, he saved the
lives of twenty-two persons in the great fire; my
grandfather came back to settle down here, he
dug the Mississippi Canal, and was elected Governor. My
father is a Senator. I shall be senator
after him. I am the last one to carry the family name. We
have made this country, and its history
is ours. There have been Clarkes in Alaska, in the
Philippines, in New Mexico. Can you dare to
shoot all of America?
LIZZIE: You come closer, and I'll let you have it.
FRED: Go ahead! Shoot! You see, you can't. A girl like you
can't shoot a man like me. Who are
you? What do you do in this world? Do you even know who your
grandfather was? I have a right
to live; there are things to be done, and I am expected to
do them. Give me the revolver. [She
gives him the revolver, he puts it in his pocket.] About the
nigger, he was running too fast. I
missed him [A pause. He puts his arm around her.] I'll put
you in a beautiful house, with a
garden, on the hill across the river. You'll walk in the
gar-den, but I forbid you to go out; I am
very jealous. I'll come to see you after dark, three times a
week—on Tuesday, Thursday, and for
the weekend. You'll have nigger servants, and more money
than you ever dreamed of; but you
will have to put up with all my whims, and I'll have plenty!
[She yields a bit to his embrace.] Is it
true that I gave you a thrill? Answer me. Is it true?
LIZZIE [wearily]: Yes, it's true.
FRED [patting her on the cheek]: Then everything is back to
normal again. [A pause.] My name
is Fred.
CURTAIN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JEAN-PAUL SARTRE was born in Paris in 1905. After being
graduated from the Ecole
Normale Superieure in 1929 with a doctorate in philosophy,
he taught for a while at Le Havre,
Lyon, and Paris. Taken prisoner in 1940, he was released
after nine months, and returned to Paris
and teaching. His first play, The Flies, was produced in
Paris during the German Occupa-tion.
His second play, No Exit, was the first to be performed in
Paris after the liberation. In addition to
plays, his works include important philosophical works and
novels. In 1964 Sartre declined the
Nobel Prize for Literature. He died in 1980.
