THE RESPECTFUL PROSTITUTE - Play

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.