context
string | word
string | claim
string | label
int64 |
|---|---|---|---|
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | dancing | How many times the word 'dancing' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | right | How many times the word 'right' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | done | How many times the word 'done' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | hottie | How many times the word 'hottie' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | grasped | How many times the word 'grasped' appears in the text? | 0 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | dressings | How many times the word 'dressings' appears in the text? | 0 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | desk | How many times the word 'desk' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | might | How many times the word 'might' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | deep | How many times the word 'deep' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | sits | How many times the word 'sits' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | owner | How many times the word 'owner' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | real??-- | How many times the word 'real??--' appears in the text? | 0 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | heal | How many times the word 'heal' appears in the text? | 0 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | shows | How many times the word 'shows' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | ignorant | How many times the word 'ignorant' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | fully | How many times the word 'fully' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | powered | How many times the word 'powered' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | letting | How many times the word 'letting' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | questioned | How many times the word 'questioned' appears in the text? | 0 |
you. Back in slavery days, you would be classified as a house nigga. SLOAN If you think I'm a house nigga then that's your prerogative. You got your ways to affect change, I have mine. And I would appreciate it very much if you took ya field nigga ass out of my house. BIG BLACK My own sister throwin' me out. I hope to seeya later when you get ya mind right. Don't bother letting me out. SLOAN That's mighty black of you. Big Black slams the door. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING One by one, the team enters the office and sits down on the sofa. DUNWITTY Delacroix, I'm glad you got your mind right. DELACROIX It's right and tight. Good morning, let me introduce you to everybody. You know my assistant, Sloan. 28. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX This is Cheeba. CHEEBA Nice to meet you. DELACROIX And this is Manray. MANRAY How do you do? DUNWITTY Good. I like the names. Very theatrical. DELACROIX We're all happy to be here and I'm going to paint a picture for you. DUNWITTY I'm wid it. DELACROIX I've done a lot of soul searching and once again you are right. In my previous work it's been all surface, superficial. I have never really dug deep. Not anymore. As Mark Twain fully understood satire is the way. Race has always been a hot button in this country's history and it needs to be pushed harder. If we are ever to live side by side in peace and harmony. It's about promoting racial healing. DUNWITTY Go on. Good so far. DELACROIX I know you're familiar with minstrel shows. They came about at the turn of the 19th century. It was a variety show in which the talent was in blackface - singing, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits. Dunwitty, I ask you when was the last time there was a good variety show on the air. Carol Burnett? HeeHaw? 29. DUNWITTY Word!!! DELACROIX So let's take this great form, this very American tradition of entertainment into the 21st century, into the new millennium. DUNWITTY The name of the show? DELACROIX It is called: MANTAN - THE NEW MILLENNIUM MINSTREL SHOW. DUNWITTY I'm lovin' it. You know how I know? Because I'm getting a boner, my Johnson is hard, no disrespect my sister. Dunwitty starts walking around his office, pumping his first. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) I'm feelin' dis'! DELACROIX It will take a lot of courage and backbone on the part of the CNS to get this on the air. In fact, I would understand fully if the subject matter is deemed too risque, too controversial. DUNWITTY Don't worry about that, that's my department. Now who do we cast? We need a star. Can Whoopi sing or dance? DELACROIX I don't know if Whoopi is the way to go. DUNWITTY Are these our two stars, sitting here in front of my nose? Which one is Mantan again? MANTAN That's me. 30. DELACROIX And Cheeba is Sleep 'n' Eat. CLOSE ON Cheeba. A look of surprise is on his face. Complete, utter surprise. DUNWITTY That's a great handle. DELACROIX Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. Two real coons. I know we're way out there but it's satire. DUNWITTY I want you take it there. All the way to the edge and back. Sloan looks at Delacroix with concern. DELACROIX Every week we follow the trials and tribulations of two real coons - Mantan and Sleep 'n Eat. The Dusky Duo. DUNWITTY What are there character traits? DELACROIX Ignorant, dullwitted, lazy, and unlucky. DUNWITTY Exactly! DELACROIX Mantan is an uneducated Negro who always by some stroke of unbelievable stupidity makes his best laid plans go haywire. DUNWITTY And Sleep 'n Eat is his comical sidekick? DELACROIX Yep, you guessed it. DUNWITTY This could be bigger than "Amos and Andy." 31. DELACROIX Protest finally forced "Amos and Andy" off the air. Could stop us from ever getting on. DUNWITTY Let'em try. I will kill to make this happen. Delacroix looks at Sloan. DELACROIX Negroes would be in an uproar. DUNWITTY So what. We would just give the NAACP a donation that would be the end of that. No such thing as bad publicity. So what. Earlier you said singing and dancing. DELACROIX Mantan right here is a gifted hoofer. He has educated feet. DUNWITTY Who are the other characters? DELACROIX Do we have characters? How about Honeycutt, Snowflake, Rastus, Nigger, Jim, Sambo, Jungle Bunny, and how could we forget Aunt Jemima. Dunwitty is dying with laughter. He's the only one. DUNWITTY We gonna hit 'em wid da BOMB DICKEY on dis' one. What's the setting? DELACROIX In the projects. Like Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's." DUNWITTY Ya first bad move. Projects been done. That's one of the problems now, everything, movies, TV, are set in the urban jungle, da hood. That's so tired. Mantan's Millennium Minstrel Show should be set on a plantation. In Alabama. (MORE) 32. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) And every week these Alabama porch monkeys will make us cry, make us laugh, make us look at our own humanity. Make us feel good to be alive. DELACROIX I don't know about that plantation angle. DUNWITTY What are you talkin' 'bout? It's the move. Stay wid me now. We're movin' fast. What does everybody else think about this? SLOAN We'd get a lot of mail. She laughs, it's a fake one at that. SLOAN (CONT'D) Mr. Dunwitty, there wouldn't be another show like it. CHEEBA I've always wanted to be on television. DUNWITTY I like you. Sleep 'n Eat. That's funny. Mantan, how do you feel about performing in black face? MANTAN As long as the hoofing is real, that I can do my thing, I can blacken up. Let me hit it, beats and rhythms, express myself. DUNWITTY Show me a little somethin' somethin'. Mantan starts to put on his new tap shoes. DUNWITTY (CONT'D) Delacroix, you dug deep, deeper than deep. Mantan is ready. 33. MANTAN I'm gonna give you just a taste. My tap shoes are brand new. I haven't trained 'em yet. He starts to work out. MANTAN (CONT'D) Rhythms, rhythms, rhythms. Beats, beats, beats. No Fred Astaire here, baby. Just rawness. Dunwitty clears his desk of everything, just knocks stuff flying onto the floor. And Mantan taking the cue, jumps up on his desk and really starts hitting it. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as he watches his creation, it's not a happy face. CLOSE ON Mantan, he's bringing it home. With the final move, he leaps off the desk into the middle of the office, and FREEZES. ANGLE ON The office. DUNWITTY That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout. That'swhatI'mtalkin''bout! He's off the hiz-hook! DELACROIX We think so. DUNWITTY Sleep 'n Eat, what do you do? CHEEBA I play the straight man. I do some singing and dancing also. I also manage Mantan. DUNWITTY Oh you do so? CHEEBA I'm the man behind the man behind the man. DUNWITTY You da man. 34. CHEEBA No, you da man. DUNWITTY I'm gonna run upstairs with this. If CNS doesn't want to do this, somebody else will have da balls to pull the trigger. I want to thank each and every one of you. This is great, Delacroix. I'll get back to you later today. EXT. STREET - DAY Cheeba and Mantan are walking in midtown Manhattan. They both have a pep in their step, money in their pockets, and a roof over their heads. CHEEBA Life is beginning to look up. It's all good in da neighborhood. MANTAN You might be right. CHEEBA Why are you smiling so? His smile is a mile wide. MANTAN I'm not smiling. CHEEBA Naw, not you. It can't be. That hottie Sloan Hopkins. MANTAN It's that bad, huh? It's all over my face. CHEEBA No shame in ya game. She got ya nostrils, ya chnoz is wide open. Sloan's what we certified ladies' men call low hanging fruit. MANTAN Certified ladies' man, huh? CHEEBA She's also moorish. 35. MANTAN What's that? CHEEBA Moorish. Ya get a little taste of dat booty, ya wanna get some MORE. MANTAN Seconds and thirds, too. CHEEBA Sloan is all 'dat. I try her. I'm a tri-sexual. MANTAN You'd try anything. I got first dibs. You get ya own stuff. CHEEBA Naw, just jokin'. That's you. That's you. INT. DELACROIX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Delacroix sits with Manray and Cheeba in the living room. DELACROIX I want you to start using the name Mantan and not Manray if you don't mind. MANRAY Why? DELACROIX You have to start getting into your character. CHEEBA At the risk of sounding ignorant... Cheeba turns quickly towards Manray. CHEEBA (CONT'D) ...don't say a word but who is this cat Mantan you keep talkin' 'bout? Delacroix hits the remote button. The TV and VCR are powered. CLOSE ON Television. We see MANTAN MORELAND in some obscure movie. 36. DELACROIX (O.S.) This is Mantan Moreland. CLOSER ON Television. Mantan reacts to seeing a ghost. DELACROIX (O.S.) (CONT'D) He was a clown, a buffoon but he was funny. ANGLE ON Living room. CHEEBA That ain't funny. MANRAY DeLa, I don't know 'bout this. DELACROIX Gentlemen, the show, our show will be satirical. You know what that is, don't you? Trust me on this one. CHEEBA We might need some mo' money behind this. DELACROIX That can be done. MANRAY Mantan? DELACROIX Mantan!! INT. RECORDING STUDIO - NIGHT THE MAU-MAU's in full effect, bob their heads to the funky track that blasts from the studio monitors. ANGLE ON Studio. They pass around joints that look like they've been on steroids and 64 ounce JUGULARS of DA BOMB MALT LIQUOR - liquid crack, the preferred alcoholic beverage of GHETTO NEGROES. All the members of the MAU-MAU's are AFRICAN AMERICAN except one. There is one Caucasian member. He goes by the name 1/16th BLACK, the engineer tech-whiz kid computer geek. 37. 1/16TH BLACK Yo, Big Black, we needs a name for this joint. BIG BLACK How 'bout... Big Black takes a long, long drag on a joint, then he quickly empties a 64 oz. in one swing without missing a beat, without missing a head nod. BIG BLACK (CONT'D) Black Iz Black? The whole group goes crazy with the title of the song. DOUBLE BLACK That's da bomb. MO BLACK That's gonna give me some inspiration. JO BLACK Gonna make me get my flow on. BIG BLACK We should call dis da BLACK album. Everyone starts high-fiving each other. SMOOTH BLACK Yo, check it out. We have never conformed to none of the white man's rules and regulations and later for that ole slave owner Webster. Therefore I respectfully submit BIG BLACK that we from now on, hence forth and whatnot spell BLACK: B-L-A-K, not B-L-A-C-K. HARD BLACK I feel dat. 1/16TH BLACK B-L-A-K. BLAK. The darkest of all colors, the opposite of white. A member of an African people. But check it out, here's where the grey people try to get slick with their trickery. Listen to the full connotations. GLOOMY. DEPRESSING. EVIL. WICKED. ANGRY. SULLEN. (MORE) 38. 1/16TH BLACK (CONT'D) BLAK OUT. BLAK LISTED. BLAK BALL. Need I say more. BIG BLACK B-L-A-K it is. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT A middle-aged African-American woman is working in the kitchen. Delacroix sits at the kitchen table talking with her. This is his MOM, ORCHID DOTHAN. Orchid puts a plate of food in front of her son. ORCHID You must think I'm some kind of fool. DELACROIX It looks delicious. ORCHID You hear me talkin' to you. The only time you come up here when something is wrong. DELACROIX C'mon, Mommy, don't start with that I'm an ungrateful son stuff. ORCHID I said no such thing. All I said is that something must be wrong. She sits down with him. ORCHID (CONT'D) How's the food? DELACROIX Can't beat it with a hammer. Well, since you asked, it looks like I may have a new show, a pilot being shot. ORCHID That's wonderful. Isn't that what you always wanted, a show of your own? He talks between mouthfuls. 39. DELACROIX It was. It is. But this is a different kind of show. ORCHID If at first it's not what you want, just work that much harder, Peerless. DELACROIX Mommy, please don't call me that. ORCHID Son, Peerless is your name. Now you might be one of these Hollywood types, change your name and all that but Peerless Dothan is on your birth certificate. DELACROIX I know what's on my birth certificate. You heard from Daddy? ORCHID I guess he's still on the road. What kind of show is this? Are they some Negroes in it without being buffoons? DELACROIX To answer your question, there are a lot of Negroes in it and what is your definition of buffoons? ORCHID Peerless, I didn't raise a buffoon. We have enough of those on television already. DELACROIX Please let me know when you hear from Daddy, get a number or something. ORCHID I will. And good luck with your show. I hope it's a huge success. You've worked very hard. You deserve it. Delacroix gets up from his seat and hugs his mother. 40. INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT A celebration is going on as Delacroix, Sloan, Cheeba and Mantan sit at a table. ANGLE ON Table. Cheeba and Mantan are giddy. Sloan looks at Delacroix who is visibly not happy. SLOAN You okay? DELACROIX I feel like somebody hit me upside da head with a sledgehammer. CHEEBA DeLa - what's the matter with you. MANTAN You ain't happy about the green light? SLOAN People show their happiness in a lot of different ways. MANTAN Well, homeboy, looks like he's at a funeral. DELACROIX I'm happy for all of us. It's just we have a great responsibility now. The pressure is on. MANTAN Pressure? DeLa, you don't know what the hell real pressure is. SHEEETT!!! This is lightstuff. Now when you scramblin' out on the street in da January winter and the hawk is talkin' to you with NO money and NO prospects of money anytime soon, now that there is some pressure. DELACROIX I didn't mean it to sound like that. 41. MANTAN That's the way it came out. Let me ask you one question. Have you ever been in want, in need your entire privileged life? DELACROIX Now I'm privileged?! Why? Because I didn't grow up on food stamps and welfare? Because I didn't call home a cardboard box? No, I never ever went to bed hungry and I'm proud of it, too. Whoever told you that living in poverty earns you somekind of badge of honor flat out lied to you. MANTAN The point I'm trying to make is that this is a blessing. It's going to be fun doing this show and we should all look at it that way. Delacroix gets up from the table and leaves. CHEEBA What's wrong with him? MANTAN Must be the pressure. Cheeba and Mantan laugh, give each other some dap. A highly attractive PUERTO RICAN female walks over to their table. This is JESSICA GRILLO. JESSICA Sorry I'm late. Cheeba and Mantan are in awe. SLOAN Hey, girl. This is my best friend, Jessica Grillo. I invited her down to celebrate with us. CHEEBA I'm Cheeba. MANTAN I'm Mantan. They both rise. 42. CHEEBA Please, have a seat. MANTAN Sloan never told us she had friends like you. CHEEBA In fact, we never knew she had any friends period. SLOAN Later for you. JESSICA She has a lot of friends CHEEBA Male? JESSICA Yes. MANTAN A lot? SLOAN Enough. Sloan and Jessica laugh at the expense of these guys. JESSICA I propose a toast. She grabs an empty glass and pours herself some champagne. JESSICA (CONT'D) To the success of your show. Good luck. Everyone raises their glasses. CLINK! SLOAN Excuse me. Sloan gets up from the table and takes after Delacroix. ANGLE ON Steps. Sloan catches up with Delacroix at the rest room area. SLOAN (CONT'D) Wait here. 43. She goes to the ladies' cubicle. CLOSE ON Delacroix. He leans against the wall. ANGLE ON Bathroom door. Sloan comes out, grabs him inside. INT. LADIES' ROOM - NIGHT Sloan locks the door. SLOAN What is your problem? DELACROIX My problem is MANTAN THE NEW MILLENIUM MINSTREL SHOW. SLOAN Why did you even come up with that shit if you didn't want it made? DELACROIX It was the principle. Dunwitty had to be enlightened. I was making a point. I take pride in my work. Plus, I already told you I wasn't gonna walk away from my money. SLOAN Fuck da money. Why do through all this effort? Why? Are you looking for love from Dunwitty? For respect? Dunwitty and his likes don't give a goddamn about you. So now what are you gonna do? Someone begins to pound on the bathroom door. WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.) Will you please let me in? I have to use the toilet. SLOAN You're gonna have to hold it in because we're not finished yet... She returns her attention to Delacroix. SLOAN (CONT'D) ...QUIT then. 44. DELACROIX Even if money wasn't an issue, Dunwitty will still go ahead without me and that could be more dangerous. SLOAN What's the chances of MANTAN being picked up? DELACROIX I wouldn't bet against it. My Negroidal ass is stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. SLOAN Like I said, all this for some twisted, distorted sense of principal. Dunwitty, he just tolerates your Negroidal ass, he doesn't respect it. The banging starts again. MANAGER'S VOICE (O.S.) Please open this bathroom door immediately. You are being very inconsiderate. Sloan unlocks the door and they exit. ANGLE ON Ladies' bathroom. Sloan and Delacroix file past the strange looks of the manager and FIVE WOMEN waiting to use the bathroom as they rush in. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - MORNING DELACROIX I strongly feel that a Negro should direct this. This kind of satire is a high wire act in a gale storm. One misstep and we're doing "Amos and Andy." Only a Negro will have the sensitivity and cultural awareness to navigate this dangerous terrain. DUNWITTY To hire someone solely on their ethnicity, gender or religion is not right. It's un-American. I will hire someone who is most qualified for this particular job. 45. DELACROIX I was hoping to perhaps direct some episodes myself, if not the pilot soon after. DUNWITTY I want a hot, young white director. Maybe the kid, that pheenom who just did that hot new sexy Madonna video. DELACROIX You're telling me some white boy is gonna direct this pilot? DUNWITTY I just want you to meet him. Keep an open mind. DELACROIX Besides, what does he know about Negroes? DUNWITTY Probably nuthin', but that's why it's such a sexy way to go. Sometimes an outsider has a fresh new outlook, a different unique perspective. A black director, y'know what he's gonna do given the subject matter? With this kid, the possibilities are endless. DELACROIX What are his qualifications besides being a white male and directing a hot new sexy freaky Madonna video? DUNWITTY If Spielburg can direct "The Color Purple" and "Amistad", our whiz kid can direct the Mantan pilot. DELACROIX That's exactly my point. Has he even directed actors before in anything? DUNWITTY No!!! Just meet the guy. That's all I'm asking. Look, I'll even let you choose your own musical director. You can have that. 46. DELACROIX In the immortal words of Derrick Coleman, WHOOOPDEEDAMNDOO!!! DUNWITTY Derrick Coleman, he possessed all the talent in the world, coulda, shoulda, been a great ballplayer but alas D.C. didn't want it bad enough. Delacroix, do you want it? Bad enough to kill for it? Do you want it that much. Delacroix stares at Dunwitty. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - NEXT DAY Delacroix, followed by Sloan, enters the room full of writers. CLOSE ON Delacroix He surveys the room. P.O.V. - DELACROIX All of the writers are Caucasian - male and female. Every single last one. ANGLE ON Conference room. Delacroix and Sloan sit down at the head of the long oval table. DELACROIX Good morning, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Pierre Delacroix. I'm running things and this here is my assistant Sloan Hopkins. SLOAN Hello. DELACROIX I've never worked with any of you and you've never worked with me so we'll be starting from scratch. I'm a fair person, a straight shooter and I don't hold my tongue. Everybody up in here should know I had nothing to do with you being hired. (MORE) 47. DELACROIX (CONT'D) I would have preferred at least one other Negro writer. Any questions? Comments? MONA raises her hand. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Yes, your name? MONA He, I'm Mona. DELACROIX Hi, Mona. MONA I perfectly understand where you're coming from. As a minority I can relate to your struggle also. But I think you should give us all a chance. We want this pilot to be successful just as much as you. Please don't be so quick to judge us based only on our whiteness. DELACROIX Oh, is that what I'm doing? BETH jumps in. BETH I think because of our background we can bring a unique perspective to Mantan. SETH pipes in also. SETH A fresh pair of eyes. A new look, insight, new angle that hasn't been seen before. DELACROIX I've heard this somewhere before. David raises his hand. 48. DAVID My name is David. I do think it would be better to have some African-American writers but for whatever reason they are not here. I don't know if they couldn't find any people with experience, they wouldn't work for the pay or refused to work for the show. I don't know and nobody in this room probably knows either. I'm looking at this as a unique opportunity. We all should. I'm a damn good writer and I'm ready to go to work. Everyone in the room applauds. Sloan looks at Delacroix. FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (V.O.) This thing was rigged, the deck was stacked, the fix was in. Could Don King be near? Good thing Sloan had my back. She's my rock. This was going to be a whole lot of work. UN-FREEZE FRAME DELACROIX (CONT'D) David, I appreciate your comments. Anybody got an ideas? Everybody just talk out loud. MONA I've always liked the format of Rowan and Martin's "LAUGH-IN." ANNA That could be cool. KIRK What about something like "The Jeffersons?" I grew up in Idaho so that's how I got my understanding of black people. Through Sherman Helmsley, LOUISSEE!!!. DAVID "Good Times" was better. Kid Dy-no mite!!! 49. AARON You pole are going to far back for me. I think we have to go after a hipper feel. Like the stuff Eddie Murphy used to do on "Saturday Night Live." PETER Or Martin. You go girl. JEFF What about the black exploitation films? No one has ever tried making that work on TV. DAVID And for reason. Have you ever seen "Scream Blacula, Scream?" MONA I think, and Delacroix will agree with me, the politics of this show have to be right. We should always be laughing with our characters, not at them. CLOSE ON Delacroix, as the writers continue to ramble on, he lets them jerk off. DELACROIX (V.O.) The mission was accomplished. All of these people left the room thinking they would have real input. I was writing this pilot alone, myself, me. EXT. STREET - DAY A long line reaches down the block and around the corner. It's a "cattle call," open auditions for "Mantan." DELACROIX (V.O.) Now came the fun part, finding the talented performers to cast in the show. WE DOLLY past the hundreds and hundreds of unemployed African American actors, many of them dressed in various costumes. 50. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Everybody and their mother was trying to get in, trying to be seen. Trying to get their piece of the rock. INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY Delacroix sits in the first row with Sloan, RUTH, an African American casting director. LEVI, the musical director, also black, is on the stage at the piano. AUDITION MONTAGE WE SEE singers, magicians, dancers, acrobats, comedians, rappers. Some good, most are terrible. Many come out on stage dressed like mammies, Stepin' Fetchit, slaves, pimps, ho's, hustlers, and basketball players. It is a cavalcade of all the stereotypical roles one has seen. ANGLE ON Space. LULU, a spoken word artist, goes her rendition of "WAY DOWN ON THE SWANEE RIVER." DELACROIX (V.O.) This was amazing. Who had told these Negroes that this was what we were looking for? The same old image, it damn for sure wasn't me. CLOSE ON Lulu. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) Were people this desperate to get work? CLOSE ON Delacroix. He interrupts Lulu. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Thanks, Ms. Lulu. LULU But I had several more poems. DELACROIX That's good. We've seen enough. We'll get back to you. Lulu scurries off stage. 51. RUTH (O.S.) Next. The Mau-Mau's run onto the stage, yelling and screaming. They are all fired up, in fact several fire their 9mm's into the ceiling. ANGLE - TWO SHOT Delacroix and Sloan. SLOAN This is the group I was telling you about. DELACROIX Which one is your brother? SLOAN The big one. CLOSE ON Ruth. RUTH Let's get started here. ANGLE ON STAGE Big Black preens around on the stage. BIG BLACK The Mau-Mau's are up in dis place. That's right, the Mau-Mau's. DELACROIX (O.S.) What's your name? BIG BLACK My righteous name is BIG BLACK. DELACROIX (O.S.) And what are the Mau-Mau's going to do for us today? BIG BLACK We gonna drop some knowledge, wisdom and understanding. The Mau- Mau's, we be scientists. We drop science. 52. CLOSE ON Sloan, who's trying to disappear. If she sits any lower she'll be under her seat. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX We're ready when you are. ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. One. Two. Hold up. I gots to give my peeps some props. Brothers introduce yourself. DOUBLE BLACK Yo, I'm Double Black. BLACK BLACK Check it, Black Black. SMOOTH BLACK I'm Smooth Black, the lover in dis' piece. HARD BLACK Hard Black. MO BLACK He's Jo Black. JO BLACK And he's Mo Black. 1/16TH BLACK I'm last but not least, you can call me 1/16th Black. ON DELACROIX DELACROIX Good. We're really blacked-oops, backed up, so shall we begin? ON STAGE BIG BLACK Microphone check. One. Two. One. Two. Yo, the name of this joint is BLAK IZ BLAK. Hit it. 53. The booming track starts and the Mau-Mau's do their thing, bouncing all over the stage. The lyrics about everything that is BLAK!!! ON DELACROIX A look of disbelief is on his face. DELACROIX (V.O.) Needless to say, the Mau-Mau's did not fit into our plans. ON SLOAN She's in shock, horrified. DELACROIX (V.O.) (CONT'D) As I told Sloan, there's a black sheep in every family. BACKSTAGE - LATER THAT DAY Delacroix is screaming at the top of his lungs. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Finland. This is a travesty. A debacle. A mockery. INT. LOBBY Dunwitty approaches Delacroix in the lobby of the rehearsal space. He is with JUKKA, a young, very young blonde kid. DUNWITTY Delacroix. This is the director I was telling you about. Jukka Laks. JUKKA So nice to meet you. DELACROIX Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking you - how old are you? JUKKA I just turned twenty. DUNWITTY I'm gonna leave you two creative geniuses alone. DELACROIX Dunwitty, don't leave. 54. Dunwitty is out. DELACROIX (CONT'D) Where are you from? JUKKA Helsinki, which is the capital of Finland. DELACROIX Finland. JUKKA You know, Finlandia vodka? Yes? DELACROIX Yes, I know. Jukka, have you ever seen a Negro person before? Even had a real conversation with a real Negro before? JUKKA What's a Negro. INT. BACKSTAGE Delacroix continues to rant and rave. Sloan is unsuccessful in attempting to make him be quiet. DELACROIX A fiasco. A disaster. A boondoggle. An abomination. INT. LOBBY DELACROIX Did you just ask me what's a Negro? I'M A NEGRO!!! JUKKA Ahhh!!! I never heard of that term before. I thought you were BLACK of African-American. No? DELACROIX Well before there was BLACK or AFRICAN AMERICAN, there were NEGROES. I'M A NEGRO. JUKKA Thank you for correcting my ignorance. I'm looking forward to working side by side with you. I feel we make a good team. 55. DELACROIX How did you get this gig? JUKKA My visual style is very erotic, sexy, how do you say - hot? DELACROIX This is a TV show, not a music video. JUKKA Then will you teach me what I need to know. Maybe we learn from each other, if that's possible, no? INT. BACKSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER DELACROIX This is a travesty. A debacle. SLOAN You've said that already. DELACROIX I'm gonna slit my wrists. Cut my throat. For the love of Joseph. INT. DELACROIX'S OFFICE - NEW DAY He's sitting behind his desk, reading new "pink" revisions of the "MANTAN" pilot. He screams. DELACROIX For the love of Joseph and Mary. Delacroix bolts out from his office. INT. DUNWITTY'S OFFICE - DAY Delacroix charges in as Dunwitty and Jukka go over the same "pink" revisions. DELACROIX I will not be held responsible for these revisions. These changes are not the way I want to go. This is an outrage. This is a sham. A violation! DUNWITTY Calm down, please. JUKKA In Finland, when we get upset... 56. DELACROIX I don't give a good goddamn about Finland, Norway, Sweden or wherever ya blond ass came from. DUNWITTY We just punched it up a bit. Made it funnier. DELACROIX Funnier to who and at who's expense? Dunwitty, when Negroes start to run amok, the boycotts, when the demostrations commence, I'm giving them your home address. Let's see how you like it when they picket your lawn in Greenwich, Connecticut. DUNWITTY I seriously doubt | shame | How many times the word 'shame' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | and---- | How many times the word 'and----' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | foolishness | How many times the word 'foolishness' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | donations | How many times the word 'donations' appears in the text? | 0 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | clasped | How many times the word 'clasped' appears in the text? | 0 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | you | How many times the word 'you' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | table | How many times the word 'table' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | trouble | How many times the word 'trouble' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | publisher | How many times the word 'publisher' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | so | How many times the word 'so' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | d'estomac | How many times the word 'd'estomac' appears in the text? | 0 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | docking | How many times the word 'docking' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | a129 | How many times the word 'a129' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | divorce | How many times the word 'divorce' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | dribble | How many times the word 'dribble' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | terribly | How many times the word 'terribly' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | wide | How many times the word 'wide' appears in the text? | 2 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | why | How many times the word 'why' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | technically | How many times the word 'technically' appears in the text? | 1 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | much | How many times the word 'much' appears in the text? | 3 |
you. Yellow Revision 8/24/07 86. Linda looks at Ted for a beat, thinking. LINDA Foreigner? TED Linda, are you in some kind of trouble? Is Chad running from something? LINDA Ted, we know what we're doing. Let me ask you this: did he know my name. TED Whuh----yes, he was asking about you. Employment history, et cetera. Real jerk. I told him to get lost. She takes his hand. LINDA Thank you, Ted. Ted swallows. He looks down. TED Well, we... Linda still has his hand. He tries to cover his reaction to the physical contact. TED (CONT'D) ... we just don't give that out at Hardbodies. The phone beeps. A voice comes through the intercom: VOICE Linda, there's a Mr. Krapotkin on line * two. LINDA Omygod! She punches a button on the phone. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? Mr. Krapkin? * VOICE Linda? Yellow Revision 8/24/07 87. LINDA Yes? VOICE This is Ilan Krapotkin. Russian embassy. Returning your call. LINDA Yes, yes!----hang on. Ted, I'm sorry. This is private. Looking at her, Ted sighs. He shakes his head sadly, rises and goes. Linda pushes the door of the cubicle shut with her foot. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello. Is this a secure line, Mr. Krapkin? * Beat. KRAPOTKIN Heh-heh. Another beat. LINDA Mr. Krapkin? * KRAPOTKIN Yes? LINDA Is this a secure, uh---- KRAPOTKIN You are joking? LINDA No! I----I'm terribly worried about my associate. My----my----you know... Chad. KRAPOTKIN Yes? Why is that? LINDA Do you have him? KRAPOTKIN Do we have him? LINDA Is he----I don't know what the term is, did he, "go over"? Blue Revision 8/1/07 88. KRAPOTKIN Um... Linda glances up. Outside her cubicle window Ted waits; at Linda's look he turns palms up: What's going on? Linda holds up a finger: one second. LINDA Do you know where he is? KRAPOTKIN Is he not... at Hardbodies? LINDA No, I----look, can I come in and discuss this? 118 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 118 * Harry Pfarrer stands at the kitchen counter chopping carrots. He is intensely focused and chops very, very quickly, producing slices in high volume. Reverse shows Katie Cox in a chair in the living room, frozen in a look up, a file of papers forgotten in one hand as she gazes over half-glasses at Harry. His chopping continues unabated. After a long look and much chopping: KATIE You seem distracted. HARRY (still chopping) Do I? KATIE Very distracted. The last two days. HARRY Nn. Work. The chopping continues. Katie's eyes shift down to the countertop, back up to Harry. Another beat. KATIE ... That's enough carrots, don't you think? 89. HARRY Huh? KATIE For the salad? The chopping stops. Harry slaps the knife down. He stares at Katie, jaw grinding, for a beat. HARRY You know: you're really a very negative person. KATIE ... What? Through grit teeth: HARRY I've tried. To ignore it. And stay upbeat. Katie, unused to backtalk from Harry, is stunned. She returns in a manner as hard as his: KATIE Harry: stop the foolishness. HARRY Stop the foolishness? KATIE Yes. And behave. You are not talking to one of your... Her fingers form quotes: KATIE (CONT'D) ... "shithole buddies." Harry glares at her, vibrating with rage. Her look at him is equally hard. Harry abruptly turns and stomps up the stairs. Brief tromping on the second floor. Katie sits in puzzled suspense. Footfalls descend the staircase. Blue Revision 8/1/07 90. Harry reappears at the foot of the stairs with his wedge- cushion tucked under an arm. He flings the front door open, goes out, slams it shut. 119 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE/INT. HARRY'S CAR - DAY 119 * Harry stomps to his car in the driveway and flings in the cushion. He gets in, seething. After a beat he pulls out his cell phone and dials. A ring. Pick-up. A female voice: SANDY Hello? HARRY Honey. It's so good to hear your voice. SANDY Something wrong, Harry? HARRY No. Yes. Can you come home? Your baby needs you. A beat. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Can you please come home? SANDY Harry, you know I---- HARRY I can show you your present. It's finished. SANDY Oh Harry. I can't just leave the book tour. Harry sags. HARRY Yeah. SANDY There are two days left. There's still Seattle. HARRY Yeah. Blue Revision 8/1/07 91. SANDY I love you, Harry. HARRY Okay. Yeah. Love you too. He folds the phone, miserable. As he pockets it his attention is caught by something in the side-view mirror: The car parked across the street. A man's shape in the driver's seat. 120 EXT. TOWNHOUSE - DAY 120 * Harry, jaw set, gets out of the car and starts down the drive. The parked car starts. HARRY Hey! Fucker! The car tries to pull out but is closely hemmed in by cars front and back; it will need a couple moves. Harry runs back to his own car, starts it, throws it into reverse and backs straight down the drive toward the frantically shuttling car. He t-bones it. VOICE FROM WITHIN CAR Fucker! Harry, amped, throws his car into drive, pulls halfway up the driveway. HARRY Fucker! Fucker! He again throws the car into reverse. The man in the other car abandons his attempt to pull out and scrambles frantically toward the passenger side. Harry again smashes into the car. Blue Revision 8/1/07 92. 121 EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM TOWNHOUSE - DAY 121 * The other man emerges from the far side. He flees down the sidewalk as fast as his weight will permit, pocket change jingling, yelling as he runs: MAN Fucker! Harry runs after him, calling: HARRY Who do you work for?! Who do you work for?! Pounding footsteps. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Tell me! The overweight man does not have Harry's stamina: Harry closes, leaps, and tackles. He crawls up the man's body, hand-over-hand, panting: HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who do you work for? CIA? NSC? The other man is panting much harder: MAN Tuchman Marsh! This stops Harry. He isn't sure what he's heard. HARRY What? MAN Tuchman Marsh! HARRY ... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Yes! HARRY Your name is... Tuchman Marsh? MAN Tuchman Marsh Hauptman Rodino! 93. Harry stares at the man underneath him. The gasping man explains: MAN (CONT'D) ... I work for them! HARRY You... work for Tuchman Marsh. MAN Yes! HARRY Which is a law firm. MAN No! A rock band! Yes, it's a law firm! HARRY Well... why are you following me? MAN Divorce action, numbnuts! Harry is blindsided. He stares. He slowly sits up, digesting: HARRY My... my wife hired you?! The freed Tuchman Marsh man also sits up, still panting heavily. MAN No. Your wife hired Tuchman Marsh. Tuchman Marsh hired me. I work for Tuchman Marsh. HARRY You're----you're----a divorce detective. MAN Not just. Credit, missing persons, whatever. HARRY But this is divorce. MAN ("duh") Well... yeah. 94. Harry rises and walks stiffly, zombie-like, up the street. The man watches him go. After a few paces Harry stops and sits on the curb. He starts weeping. The man, still breathing heavily, calls out: MAN (CONT'D) ... Jesus----grow up, man! It happens to everybody! Harry's cell phone chirps. He fishes it out and unfolds it, sniveling. HARRY Yeah? VOICE Harry, it's Osbourne Cox. Harry stares, trying to fit this in. Osbourne prompts, after a silent beat: VOICE (CONT'D) ... Harry? HARRY Yeah? OSBOURNE Harry, could I get your wife's number? This is Osbourne Cox, could I trouble you for your wife's---- HARRY You can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, fucker. OSBOURNE What? Harry again stares: maybe he has this figured wrong. After a silence: OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ...Is this... Harry Pfarrer? HARRY You want... Sandy's number? Echoing up the street: Blue Revision 8/1/07 95. MAN Can I use your phone? To call a tow? 122 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 122 * Osbourne paces the cramped cabin belowdecks, a phone to his ear. He is unshaven, wearing a robe. Filtered rings, then a connection: SANDY'S VOICE Hello? OSBOURNE Sandy? SANDY Yes? OSBOURNE Hi, it's Osbourne Cox, how are you. Hi. SANDY ... Hi. OSBOURNE Hi. Sorry to call out of the blue but I have a, well, a publishing question and I thought you might be the person to ask, I have this manuscript, something to do with my professional experiences, not to go into too much detail but I think it's pretty explosive stuff and I think that it could merit a fairly wide readership handled properly and it isn't quite finished yet but there's a situation where I'm worried about it leaking now and maybe excerpts being published or on the internet, whatever, without my permission, and a lot of the impact being, um, blunted, so I'm actually anxious to bring it to market sooner than I'd planned----I mean, like now, in fact----so I was thinking, I know you, and you seem to do well, so I was wondering if you were happy with your publisher. The people you use. A long beat. 96. SANDY You've written a children's book? OSBOURNE No! No no, a, a kind of a memoir, but ----doesn't your company have an adult arm? Or isn't it, uh, the children's arm? Of a regular publisher? SANDY Pappas & Swain do children's literature. OSBOURNE Uh-huh. I see. So they don't---- okay... Are you well? SANDY Very well thank you. And you. OSBOURNE Yes. Good. Okay, well, thank you Sandy. SANDY Yes. Good talking to you. Disconnect. Osbourne yanks the rubber band off a bundle of mail. OSBOURNE Bitch. 123 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY - DAY 123 Two pairs of footsteps echo down a long hallway as Linda Litzke is escorted by a solemn Russian staffer. 124 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - ANOTHER ROOM - DAY 124 A waiting room. A long beat; Linda sits waiting. A door opens. Mr. Krapotkin emerges. Linda stands to go to the inner office but Krapotkin motions her back down. KRAPOTKIN Yes, madam. Can we help you? 97. LINDA What kind of Mickey Mouse embassy are you running?! I've been waiting here for fifty-five minutes, and I'm---- KRAPOTKIN I am so sorry, madam. An urgent matter. LINDA Well this could be urgent too, since, you know, Chad has been missing for forty-eight hours now and---- KRAPOTKIN I don't know the whereabouts of Chad, madam. LINDA Well he was gathering information for you when he---- KRAPOTKIN We're not interested in such "information". It was drivel. Linda is dumbfounded. A silent beat. LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin fishes something from his pocket. KRAPOTKIN Would you like your disk back? LINDA ... Dribble! Krapotkin stands with the disk extended toward her. KRAPOTKIN I'm so sorry I can't help you. Linda recovers from her astonishment and is moved to outrage: LINDA I'll tell you what's dribble! You listen to me, Mr. Krapkin! I am---- Blue Revision 8/1/07 98. 125 INT. RUSSIAN EMBASSY - HALLWAY AGAIN 125 Looking the opposite way. We hear two pairs of footsteps. They approach for several beats and then Linda and her escort enter frame and recede, footsteps echoing. The staffer's hand is on Linda's elbow. As we hold on their backs and they continue to walk, Linda jerks her arm away; the staffer regrabs it. She jerks away again. LINDA Cut it out. 126 OMITTED 126 * 127 OMITTED 127 * 128 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 128 * An exercise show plays on the TV, unwatched. Osbourne sits at a little table looking at a notice torn from a windowed envelope. OSBOURNE ... What? He brings the notice close, squints at it. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... What the fuck? He quickly shuffles through the rest of the mail, pulls out another envelope, rips it open. Blue Revision 8/1/07 99. A MINUTE LATER Osbourne paces, drink in hand, staring at another piece of mail. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) What the fuck? A MINUTE LATER Osbourne is back at the table, drink half-consumed, listening at the phone. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... Yes... No... Yes, I want to know why the check for my slip fee was returned for insufficient funds... Slip fee, for docking my boat, the check was returned... No, m'dam, it's not zero, I have about forty thousand dollars in that account... When? ... When?... But she can't do that----no, yes, technically it may be a joint account but she doesn't use it, it's not her money... No! No! What access, it's not possible! Without my permission? What about the, my, the, our savings account? My savings account?... I don't know the fucking number! You think I memorize the fucking numbers on my fucking bank accounts! Moron!... Hello? A129 EXT. PFARRERS' CHEVY CHASE HOUSE - DUSK (FORMERLY SCENE 126) A129 * We are looking at the exterior of the house in wide shot. * Peaceful neighborhood. Birds chirp. * From inside the house, though, we can faintly hear sobs, * punctuated by sounds of exertion. Each gasp of effort ends * in a dull clang. * B129 INT. PFARRER BASEMENT - NIGHT (FORMERLY SCENE 127) B129 * The wracking sobs bump up loud at the cut inside. * Harry is weeping as he demolishes the love seat with a * sledgehammer. * Blue Revision 8/1/07 99A. 129 INT. HARDBODIES - TED'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY 129 * Ted stares, horrified. After a beat: TED No-o-o-o-o-o way. No way. Whoa. No way, Linda... She sits opposite him in his office. Ted shakes his head. TED (CONT'D) ... No. LINDA But Ted, I can't do it, I don't know anything about computers. 100. TED Linda, the whole thing is crazy. It was crazy the first time, and you want to do it again? Break into the man's house? And why would----why would----you said the Russians didn't even want this stuff! LINDA My world is bigger than that, Ted. There's other people. There's the Chinese. TED Linda, these surgeries---- LINDA It's not just the surgeries, Ted! It's not just the money! We can use it as leverage! To get Chad back! TED What do you mean "get him back"! LINDA Information is power, Ted! Hel-lo! TED What do you mean "get him back"! You don't know where he is! LINDA Somebody has him. And we can---- TED You ask the police to help you find missing people! And you---- LINDA I can't take it! I can't take it! I can't take it! You know I can't do that! We're operating off the map here, Ted! This is way higher than the police, it's higher than that! TED Linda, I---- LINDA I need a can-do person, Ted! I hate your negativity! I hate all your reasons why not! I hate you! I hate you! Blue Revision 8/1/07 101. Weeping, she storms out. Ted stares, shell-shocked. 130 INT. BAR - DAY 130 * In close shot, Ted sits onto a bar stool. Dim bar, tinkling piano. BARTENDER'S VOICE What'll it be. Ted stares straight ahead. A long beat. He finally focuses on the bartender, off. He swallows. Another beat. TED Seven & Seven. 131 INT. LINDA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 131 Night. Linda is asleep in her bedroom. The buzz of the in- house intercom. Linda stirs, wakes and reaches for the bedside phone. LINDA Hurrow---- She removes an appliance from her mouth. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Hello? FILTERED VOICE It's Harry. 132 INT. LINDA'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 132 Minutes later. Harry is gazing off, slack-jawed, haunted. After a beat: HARRY You think a marriage is... and then you... The thought drifts off. A sad shake of the head. 102. Linda enters, handing him a drink. She sits opposite. LINDA But this was a long time coming. Harry looks up, surprised. HARRY Was it? He catches himself. His gaze wanders back to the haunted, empty spot. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Well, yeah... right... LINDA You're depressed, Harry. HARRY (hollowly) I am depressed. I gotta exercise. I haven't run in three days... butt- crunches... anything... Do you think I could stay here for a little while? Linda starts quietly weeping. This focuses Harry's attention. He looks at her as if just now noticing her. HARRY (CONT'D) ... What? What's wrong, baby? LINDA It can't always come from me, Harry! I'm not that strong! Harry moves next to her and puts an arm around her. HARRY What's wrong, baby? Harry's here. LINDA You're not here for me! I need a can- do person! You're all... defeated! HARRY I'm sorry, baby---- LINDA Chad is the only can-do person I know and he's gone, Harry, he's gone. 103. HARRY I'll be good. I'll be better. I just need to exercise. Are there pedestrian paths around here? He squeezes her shoulder, takes a gulp of the drink. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Who the fuck is Chad? LINDA Could you help me find him? He's a friend from work. You know law enforcement people, right? You could call, unofficially? HARRY Wait a minute, what's his name? What happened? LINDA Chad Feldheimer. He just disappeared. He hasn't been at work or at home for two days. HARRY Okay. LINDA He---- HARRY You know his social security number? LINDA Huh? NO! I---- HARRY It's okay. That's okay. What's the last place you saw him? LINDA (snuffling) I don't know! He just disappeared! The last place I saw him was the Jamba Juice on K Street. And he's gone. Harry squeezes her shoulder again. HARRY Okay baby. We'll find your friend. Missing person. Piece of cake. 104. 133 INT. PEDIATRIC EXAM ROOM - DAY 133 AN EPIGLOTTIS Illuminated by a small light. It quavers. The tongue starts to rise and the mouth starts to close. WOMAN'S VOICE No, stay open... Wider: a pediatric examining room decorated with colorful prints of cartoon characters and clowns. Katie Cox, in a white smock, has a tongue depressor in a five- year-old's mouth and a light-sight in one hand. She withdraws both as the child finishes closing his mouth. The child's mother stands by. Katie grasps the child by the upper arm. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... You have to let the doctor look in your mouth. The child keeps his lips pressed together. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Now you listen to me, young man. You do as I say or I'll ask your mother to leave the doctor's office and the two of us will sort out what's what. The child looks at her fearfully. The wall phone bleeps. Katie rolls to it on her castored chair. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... Yes. She listens briefly. WOMAN'S VOICE (CONT'D) ... With a patient. She hangs up. 134 INT. OSBOURNE'S BOAT - DAY 134 Osbourne, in dressing gown and pyjamas, is barking into the phone: 105. OSBOURNE Yeah? The same patient she's been with since YESTERDAY? BullSHIT! FILTERED VOICE Dr. Cox has suggested you call her attorney---- OSBOURNE Yeah, RIGHT! Tell her I got the new fucking keys! He slams down the phone. 135 EXT. BOAT DECK 135 The hatch is thrown open and Osbourne emerges from below. There is a large built-in toolbox just by the hatch. He yanks it open and pulls out a hatchet. OSBOURNE New keys... 136 DOCK 136 Osbourne strides grimly down the dock in his bathrobe, hatchet in hand. 137 INT. "GOOD MORNING, SEATTLE" SET - DAY 137 Sandy Pfarrer is sitting in an armchair on a morning show living room set surrounded by a dozen eight-year-olds sitting on the carpet. Hosts Del and Connie sit next to her in swivel chairs. SANDY (reading) And it was just then----at that very moment----that Oliver sneezed---- DEL Can we just----I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to let the folks at home see this illustration! Can we just get a shot of that... He is holding the book open, face out on his lap. DEL (CONT'D) There----there it is. Oliver. Interrupting the filibuster with---- 106. CONNIE That's wonderful! DEL Wonderful! The book is "Point of Order, Oliver!" and the talented author is Sandra Pfarrer. We're gonna go to a station break and then be right back with Bud Fraighling, the Sultan of Salad, and Part Two of our special interview with Dermot Mulroney. So keep it where it is! Del and Connie and Sandy all wear smiles that stay fixed a beat too long. Then Del relaxes and turns to Sandy. DEL (CONT'D) ...Great segment. SANDY Thank you. DEL Yeah, you know we thought it might be fun if you joined us with Bud Fraighling and help make the Fiesta Salad, when we move over. CONNIE Over on the kitchen set. SANDY That wasn't discussed. DEL Oh, sure! No! Only if you want to! Your segment went great, we just thought---- SANDY I'm sorry, I made plans. DEL Okay, great! CONNIE Great to see you again, Sandra! She gives them a cold smile as a technician finishes unclipping her lavaliere and she leaves. Connie looks at Del and mouths "Bitch." 107. 138 EXT. COX TOWNHOUSE - DAY 138 Osbourne's crumple-backed car roars up. It cuts a corner of the lawn and squeals to a halt in the drive. Osbourne emerges, still in robe and pyjamas, with the hatchet. He goes to the front door and bashes at the knob with the blunt end of the hatchet. OSBOURNE New... fucking... keys... How's this for access... Hardware starts to fall off and jangle onto the stoop. Osbourne tries the sharp end of the hatchet a couple times, decides he prefers the blunt end. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... How's this for motherfucking access... More things fall off. The knob wobbles in the door. Osbourne pushes the door open. 139 INT. STUDIO - HALLWAY - DAY 139 Sandy Pfarrer is accompanied by a bright young PR woman. PR WOMAN That was way out of line. We were so unbelievably clear with them: just an Oliver segment. SANDY It's fine. PR WOMAN Del and Connie are such putzes. SANDY It's fine. Thank you. We're finished. PR WOMAN Huh? Well, okay. Great, uh---- Sandy, entered her dressing room, is already shutting the door on her. 108. 140 INT. STUDIO DRESSING ROOM - DAY 140 Inside a man lounges reading a magazine. He looks a little like Harry but younger. SANDY Thought that would never be over. The man rises and kisses her. MAN Mmm. Me too. SANDY Let me scrub this crap off my face. 141 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE KITCHEN - DAY 141 Osbourne opens a cabinet, muttering: OSBOURNE Just for starters... He takes out liquor bottles and starts putting them in a packing case on the kitchen counter. 142 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL - DAY 142 People sit on benches eating lunches. Harry Pfarrer is on the bench where he and Linda met, once again spitting sunflower seeds. Linda walks up. They greet each other with a kiss. HARRY Hello there sunshine. You look great. LINDA Well you seem better. Harry does indeed seem more like his old self. HARRY Yeah, I snuck in a little gym time this morning. And our exercise last night didn't hurt! Linda is shocked but secretly pleased: LINDA Harry! 109. HARRY Boy, I am through banging my head against the wall. I am gonna start doing what's right for me. LINDA That's how I believe, also. You have to do what's right for---- HARRY Yeah! Hell yeah! I mean I had a shock recently, and I realized you know, life is not infinite. No one's immortal. LINDA No one's immortal. HARRY You have to get from each day its full, uh, squeeze the juice from every day because there but for the grace of God---- LINDA Exactly. The important thing is to maintain a positive outlook. Always up. Always ebullient. HARRY That's right, don't sweat the small stuff... Linda chimes in: Linda and Harry HARRY (CONT'D) ... and it's all small stuff. Harry reaches for Linda and she slides closer. He puts an arm around her. HARRY (CONT'D) This is where we first met. Remember? LINDA Of course I do. HARRY You never know what the important days are, until... until, um... 110. The thought drifts away as his gaze fixes on something. With his look still fixed: HARRY (CONT'D) ... I told myself I was gonna stop being paranoid, but... is that guy looking at us? Linda follows his look. On a bench a short distance away a middle-aged man with aviator glasses and hair plugs is staring at them. LINDA (hastily) No, no. A slightly overweight woman stops tentatively in front of the man in the aviator glasses and they start to talk. Linda turns to Harry. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Have you found out anything about Chad? HARRY Nothing yet, I've made a couple calls. I don't think it'll take long. LINDA Really? HARRY Oh yeah, there are so many data bases now it's a joke... Relaxing now that he sees the man in aviator glasses engaged in conversation, Harry warms to his theme. HARRY (CONT'D) ... Back when I was in PP there was still some art to finding people. Not any more. And now with the cell phones? Pretty soon they're gonna know where everyone is. Everyone. At any given moment. I mean it's almost the reality now. You would be amazed. LINDA Uh-huh. 111. HARRY Did he----when you left the Jamba Juice ----did Chad say anything about where he might be going? LINDA Oh, I know where he was going. HARRY Oh yeah? LINDA A residence in Alexandria. On Hillsboro Drive. Harry has stopped chewing. He is staring at her. Linda feels obliged to fill the silence. LINDA (CONT'D) ... 2055 Hillsboro. Harry stares. Linda doesn't know what to make of his fixed stare. LINDA (CONT'D) ... It's, um. The residence of a guy named Osbourne Cox. Harry is beginning to look sick. A long silence. Then, quietly: HARRY Who are you? Now Linda stares, unsure of what to make of the question. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? Linda's eyes widen. She is a little frightened. People nearby turn to look. It is a scene. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? Harry reaches up. He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes. HARRY (CONT'D) ... WHO ARE YOU? REALLY? 112. Linda is at sea. She answers in a small voice: LINDA I'm ... just ... Linda Litzke. Harry stares at her. A long beat. He leaps to his feet and looks around in a panic. His point-of-view, sweeping the park. Nearby, the man with plugs, though talking with his date, is looking at him again. Farther away, a man sits in a curbside sedan. Watching? Hard to say. Harry turns and runs. Linda gapes. LINDA (CONT'D) ... Harry! 143 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - DAY 143 Osbourne sets the packing box heavily down on a bureau in the upstairs bedroom. The box is a third loaded up with liquor bottles. It also holds a mixed drink which Osbourne now takes out. The ice cubes clink as he sips, poking through things in the bureau. One drawer holds scarves and accessories and a large case. He opens the case and starts dumping jewelry from it into the cardboard box. Suddenly: OSBOURNE Ow! Fuck! He yanks his hand back and shakes it. He looks at the ball of his thumb. He sucks it. He carefully picks a brooch out of the jewelry case and flings it across the room. He resumes dumping jewelry into his box. He suddenly stops: A faint knock. The front door. Osbourne waits. The knock repeats. 113. Another beat. The front door creaks open. Osbourne carefully sets down his drink. He steps quietly to the closet and pulls a small cedar chest off a high shelf. 144 EXT. WASHINGTON MALL/INT. LINDA'S CAR - DAY 144 Linda flings open the door to her car parked on the street bordering the mall. She gets in and turns the ignition. Pulling into traffic she checks her rear-view, and her look snags on: A dark four-door sedan pulling out a few cars back. It falls in behind her. Its driver is a man in sunglasses. He reaches up and touches fingertips to one ear. Linda frowns. She looks forward, glances again at the mirror. Another dark car pulls into the lane next to the first. Its driver is also a man in sunglasses. 145 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY 145 Downstairs, Osbourne rounds the corner from entryway to living room, a handgun at the ready. His drink is in his other hand. Ice cubes clink as he moves. The living room is empty. Osbourne advances cautiously. A quick sidelong look at the kitchen. Empty. He proceeds to the basement door. 146 INT. LINDA'S CAR/EXT. INTERSECTION - DAY 146 LINDA DRIVING She gives worried glances at her rear-view. The light ahead turns yellow, red. Cars ahead stop. Linda stops. A rhythmic thudding sound. It almost makes her car vibrate. 114. She looks around. She rolls down her window, sticks her head out, looks up. A black helicopter hovers overhead, rotors thudding. A black- clad body leans partway out. The person seems to be looking down. Linda draws her head back in. LINDA Oh for Pete's sake. 147 INT. COX TOWNHOUSE - BASEMENT 147 Osbourne is slowly descending the stairs, gun and drink in either hand, gun up, ice cubes clinking. The basement comes slowly into view. Someone stands behind his desk, at the computer. Osbourne descends further. He stops on the bottom step and stares at Ted Treffon, the soulful manager of Hardbodies. Ted stares at him. A long silence between the two men. Then, quietly: OSBOURNE And you are... my wife's lover. TED No. OSBOURNE Then what are you doing here. Silence. Osbourne takes the last step down. He advances slowly, gun trained on Ted. Osbourne's look, holding on Ted, changes. OSBOURNE (CONT'D) ... I know you. You're the guy at the gym. Ted licks his lips. TED I'm not here representing Hardbodies. 115. OSBOURNE I know what you represent. You represent the idiocy of today. Ted shakes | stream | How many times the word 'stream' appears in the text? | 0 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | disaster | How many times the word 'disaster' appears in the text? | 2 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | taken | How many times the word 'taken' appears in the text? | 3 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | am | How many times the word 'am' appears in the text? | 3 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | not | How many times the word 'not' appears in the text? | 3 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | notes | How many times the word 'notes' appears in the text? | 2 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | i | How many times the word 'i' appears in the text? | 3 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | laugh | How many times the word 'laugh' appears in the text? | 3 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | zoof | How many times the word 'zoof' appears in the text? | 0 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | remembrances | How many times the word 'remembrances' appears in the text? | 0 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | put | How many times the word 'put' appears in the text? | 3 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | actually | How many times the word 'actually' appears in the text? | 0 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | ah!--hopeful | How many times the word 'ah!--hopeful' appears in the text? | 0 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | war | How many times the word 'war' appears in the text? | 3 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | fingers | How many times the word 'fingers' appears in the text? | 1 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | matters | How many times the word 'matters' appears in the text? | 1 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | need | How many times the word 'need' appears in the text? | 2 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | counting | How many times the word 'counting' appears in the text? | 0 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | stretch | How many times the word 'stretch' appears in the text? | 1 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | houseled | How many times the word 'houseled' appears in the text? | 0 |
you; you shall see. On the day when I retire from office, we will go together. But you are not a Deputy, my friend. Many men want your place; but for me, you would be out of it by this time. Yes, I have fought many a pitched battle to keep you in it.--Well, I grant you your two requests; it would be too bad to see you riding the bar at your age and in the position you hold. But you stretch your credit a little too far. If this appointment gives rise to discussion, we shall not be held blameless. I can laugh at such things; but you will find it a thorn under your feet. And the next session will see your dismissal. Your place is held out as a bait to five or six influential men, and you have been enabled to keep it solely by the force of my arguments. I tell you, on the day when you retire, there will be five malcontents to one happy man; whereas, by keeping you hanging on by a thread for two or three years, we shall secure all six votes. There was a great laugh at the Council meeting; the Veteran of the Old Guard, as they say, was becoming desperately wide awake in parliamentary tactics! I am frank with you.--And you are growing gray; you are a happy man to be able to get into such difficulties as these! How long is it since I--Lieutenant Cottin--had a mistress?" He rang the bell. "That police report must be destroyed," he added. "Monseigneur, you are as a father to me! I dared not mention my anxiety on that point." "I still wish I had Roger here," cried the Prince, as Mitouflet, his groom of the chambers, came in. "I was just going to send for him!--You may go, Mitouflet.--Go you, my dear old fellow, go and have the nomination made out; I will sign it. At the same time, that low schemer will not long enjoy the fruit of his crimes. He will be sharply watched, and drummed out of the regiment for the smallest fault.--You are saved this time, my dear Hector; take care for the future. Do not exhaust your friends' patience. You shall have the nomination this morning, and your man shall get his promotion in the Legion of Honor.--How old are you now?" "Within three months of seventy." "What a scapegrace!" said the Prince, laughing. "It is you who deserve a promotion, but, by thunder! we are not under Louis XV.!" Such is the sense of comradeship that binds the glorious survivors of the Napoleonic phalanx, that they always feel as if they were in camp together, and bound to stand together through thick and thin. "One more favor such as this," Hulot reflected as he crossed the courtyard, "and I am done for!" The luckless official went to Baron de Nucingen, to whom he now owed a mere trifle, and succeeded in borrowing forty thousand francs, on his salary pledged for two years more; the banker stipulated that in the event of Hulot's retirement on his pension, the whole of it should be devoted to the repayment of the sum borrowed till the capital and interest were all cleared off. This new bargain, like the first, was made in the name of Vauvinet, to whom the Baron signed notes of hand to the amount of twelve thousand francs. On the following day, the fateful police report, the husband's charge, the letters--all the papers--were destroyed. The scandalous promotion of Monsieur Marneffe, hardly heeded in the midst of the July fetes, was not commented on in any newspaper. Lisbeth, to all appearance at war with Madame Marneffe, had taken up her abode with Marshal Hulot. Ten days after these events, the banns of marriage were published between the old maid and the distinguished old officer, to whom, to win his consent, Adeline had related the financial disaster that had befallen her Hector, begging him never to mention it to the Baron, who was, as she said, much saddened, quite depressed and crushed. "Alas! he is as old as his years," she added. So Lisbeth had triumphed. She was achieving the object of her ambition, she would see the success of her scheme, and her hatred gratified. She delighted in the anticipated joy of reigning supreme over the family who had so long looked down upon her. Yes, she would patronize her patrons, she would be the rescuing angel who would dole out a livelihood to the ruined family; she addressed herself as "Madame la Comtesse" and "Madame la Marechale," courtesying in front of a glass. Adeline and Hortense should end their days in struggling with poverty, while she, a visitor at the Tuileries, would lord it in the fashionable world. A terrible disaster overthrew the old maid from the social heights where she so proudly enthroned herself. On the very day when the banns were first published, the Baron received a second message from Africa. Another Alsatian arrived, handed him a letter, after assuring himself that he spoke to Baron Hulot, and after giving the Baron the address of his lodgings, bowed himself out, leaving the great man stricken by the opening lines of this letter:-- "DEAR NEPHEW,--You will receive this letter, by my calculations, on the 7th of August. Supposing it takes you three days to send us the help we need, and that it is a fortnight on the way here, that brings us to the 1st of September. "If you can act decisively within that time, you will have saved the honor and the life of yours sincerely, Johann Fischer. "This is what I am required to demand by the clerk you have made my accomplice; for I am amenable, it would seem, to the law, at the Assizes, or before a council of war. Of course, you understand that Johann Fischer will never be brought to the bar of any tribunal; he will go of his own act to appear at that of God. "Your clerk seems to me a bad lot, quite capable of getting you into hot water; but he is as clever as any rogue. He says the line for you to take is to call out louder than any one, and to send out an inspector, a special commissioner, to discover who is really guilty, rake up abuses, and make a fuss, in short; but if we stir up the struggle, who will stand between us and the law? "If your commissioner arrives here by the 1st of September, and you have given him your orders, sending by him two hundred thousand francs to place in our storehouses the supplies we profess to have secured in remote country places, we shall be absolutely solvent and regarded as blameless. You can trust the soldier who is the bearer of this letter with a draft in my name on a house in Algiers. He is a trustworthy fellow, a relation of mine, incapable of trying to find out what he is the bearer of. I have taken measures to guarantee the fellow's safe return. If you can do nothing, I am ready and willing to die for the man to whom we owe our Adeline's happiness!" The anguish and raptures of passion and the catastrophe which had checked his career of profligacy had prevented Baron Hulot's ever thinking of poor Johann Fischer, though his first letter had given warning of the danger now become so pressing. The Baron went out of the dining-room in such agitation that he literally dropped on to a sofa in the drawing-room. He was stunned, sunk in the dull numbness of a heavy fall. He stared at a flower on the carpet, quite unconscious that he still held in his hand Johann's fatal letter. Adeline, in her room, heard her husband throw himself on the sofa, like a lifeless mass; the noise was so peculiar that she fancied he had an apoplectic attack. She looked through the door at the mirror, in such dread as stops the breath and hinders motion, and she saw her Hector in the attitude of a man crushed. The Baroness stole in on tiptoe; Hector heard nothing; she went close up to him, saw the letter, took it, read it, trembling in every limb. She went through one of those violent nervous shocks that leave their traces for ever on the sufferer. Within a few days she became subject to a constant trembling, for after the first instant the need for action gave her such strength as can only be drawn from the very wellspring of the vital powers. "Hector, come into my room," said she, in a voice that was no more than a breath. "Do not let your daughter see you in this state! Come, my dear, come!" "Two hundred thousand francs? Where can I find them? I can get Claude Vignon sent out there as commissioner. He is a clever, intelligent fellow.--That is a matter of a couple of days.--But two hundred thousand francs! My son has not so much; his house is loaded with mortgages for three hundred thousand. My brother has saved thirty thousand francs at most. Nucingen would simply laugh at me!--Vauvinet?--he was not very ready to lend me the ten thousand francs I wanted to make up the sum for that villain Marneffe's boy. No, it is all up with me; I must throw myself at the Prince's feet, confess how matters stand, hear myself told that I am a low scoundrel, and take his broadside so as to go decently to the bottom." "But, Hector, this is not merely ruin, it is disgrace," said Adeline. "My poor uncle will kill himself. Only kill us--yourself and me; you have a right to do that, but do not be a murderer! Come, take courage; there must be some way out of it." "Not one," said Hulot. "No one in the Government could find two hundred thousand francs, not if it were to save an Administration!--Oh, Napoleon! where art thou?" "My uncle! poor man! Hector, he must not be allowed to kill himself in disgrace." "There is one more chance," said he, "but a very remote one.--Yes, Crevel is at daggers drawn with his daughter.--He has plenty of money, he alone could--" "Listen, Hector it will be better for your wife to perish than to leave our uncle to perish--and your brother--the honor of the family!" cried the Baroness, struck by a flash of light. "Yes, I can save you all.--Good God! what a degrading thought! How could it have occurred to me?" She clasped her hands, dropped on her knees, and put up a prayer. On rising, she saw such a crazy expression of joy on her husband's face, that the diabolical suggestion returned, and then Adeline sank into a sort of idiotic melancholy. "Go, my dear, at once to the War Office," said she, rousing herself from this torpor; "try to send out a commission; it must be done. Get round the Marshal. And on your return, at five o'clock, you will find--perhaps--yes! you shall find two hundred thousand francs. Your family, your honor as a man, as a State official, a Councillor of State, your honesty--your son--all shall be saved;--but your Adeline will be lost, and you will see her no more. Hector, my dear," said she, kneeling before him, clasping and kissing his hand, "give me your blessing! Say farewell." It was so heart-rending that Hulot put his arms round his wife, raised her and kissed her, saying: "I do not understand." "If you did," said she, "I should die of shame, or I should not have the strength to carry out this last sacrifice." "Breakfast is served," said Mariette. Hortense came in to wish her parents good-morning. They had to go to breakfast and assume a false face. "Begin without me; I will join you," said the Baroness. She sat down to her desk and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR MONSIEUR CREVEL,--I have to ask a service of you; I shall expect you this morning, and I count on your gallantry, which is well known to me, to save me from having too long to wait for you. --Your faithful servant, "ADELINE HULOT." "Louise," said she to her daughter's maid, who waited on her, "take this note down to the porter and desire him to carry it at once to this address and wait for an answer." The Baron, who was reading the news, held out a Republican paper to his wife, pointing to an article, and saying: "Is there time?" This was the paragraph, one of the terrible "notes" with which the papers spice their political bread and butter:-- "A correspondent in Algiers writes that such abuses have been discovered in the commissariate transactions of the province of Oran, that the Law is making inquiries. The peculation is self-evident, and the guilty persons are known. If severe measures are not taken, we shall continue to lose more men through the extortion that limits their rations than by Arab steel or the fierce heat of the climate. We await further information before enlarging on this deplorable business. We need no longer wonder at the terror caused by the establishment of the Press in Africa, as was contemplated by the Charter of 1830." "I will dress and go to the Minister," said the Baron, as they rose from table. "Time is precious; a man's life hangs on every minute." "Oh, mamma, there is no hope for me!" cried Hortense. And unable to check her tears, she handed to her mother a number of the _Revue des Beaux Arts_. Madame Hulot's eye fell on a print of the group of "Delilah" by Count Steinbock, under which were the words, "The property of Madame Marneffe." The very first lines of the article, signed V., showed the talent and friendliness of Claude Vignon. "Poor child!" said the Baroness. Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to kiss her mother, saying: "What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched than we are already?" "My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to suffer?" "In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly. "Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help me in this! Send me Louise." Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself: "Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?" She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders, and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses, especially if she has lived chastely. Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on, indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered cape. Her curls, _a l'Anglaise_, struck her as too fly-away; she subdued their airy lightness by putting on a very pretty cap; but, with or without the cap, would she have known how to twist the golden ringlets so as to show off her taper fingers to admiration? As to rouge--the consciousness of guilt, the preparations for a deliberate fall, threw this saintly woman into a state of high fever, which, for the time, revived the brilliant coloring of youth. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed. Instead of assuming a seductive air, she saw in herself a look of barefaced audacity which shocked her. Lisbeth, at Adeline's request, had told her all the circumstances of Wenceslas' infidelity; and the Baroness had learned to her utter amazement, that in one evening in one moment, Madame Marneffe had made herself the mistress of the bewitched artist. "How do these women do it?" the Baroness had asked Lisbeth. There is no curiosity so great as that of virtuous women on such subjects; they would like to know the arts of vice and remain immaculate. "Why, they are seductive; it is their business," said Cousin Betty. "Valerie that evening, my dear, was, I declare, enough to bring an angel to perdition." "But tell me how she set to work." "There is no principle, only practice in that walk of life," said Lisbeth ironically. The Baroness, recalling this conversation, would have liked to consult Cousin Betty; but there was no time for that. Poor Adeline, incapable of imagining a patch, of pinning a rosebud in the very middle of her bosom, of devising the tricks of the toilet intended to resuscitate the ardors of exhausted nature, was merely well dressed. A woman is not a courtesan for the wishing! "Woman is soup for man," as Moliere says by the mouth of the judicious Gros-Rene. This comparison suggests a sort of culinary art in love. Then the virtuous wife would be a Homeric meal, flesh laid on hot cinders. The courtesan, on the contrary, is a dish by Careme, with its condiments, spices, and elegant arrangement. The Baroness could not--did not know how to serve up her fair bosom in a lordly dish of lace, after the manner of Madame Marneffe. She knew nothing of the secrets of certain attitudes. This high-souled woman might have turned round and round a hundred times, and she would have betrayed nothing to the keen glance of a profligate. To be a good woman and a prude to all the world, and a courtesan to her husband, is the gift of a woman of genius, and they are few. This is the secret of long fidelity, inexplicable to the women who are not blessed with the double and splendid faculty. Imagine Madame Marneffe virtuous, and you have the Marchesa di Pescara. But such lofty and illustrious women, beautiful as Diane de Poitiers, but virtuous, may be easily counted. So the scene with which this serious and terrible drama of Paris manners opened was about to be repeated, with this singular difference--that the calamities prophesied then by the captain of the municipal Militia had reversed the parts. Madame Hulot was awaiting Crevel with the same intentions as had brought him to her, smiling down at the Paris crowd from his _milord_, three years ago. And, strangest thing of all, the Baroness was true to herself and to her love, while preparing to yield to the grossest infidelity, such as the storm of passion even does not justify in the eyes of some judges. "What can I do to become a Madame Marneffe?" she asked herself as she heard the door-bell. She restrained her tears, fever gave brilliancy to her face, and she meant to be quite the courtesan, poor, noble soul. "What the devil can that worthy Baronne Hulot want of me?" Crevel wondered as he mounted the stairs. "She is going to discuss my quarrel with Celestine and Victorin, no doubt; but I will not give way!" As he went into the drawing-room, shown in by Louise, he said to himself as he noted the bareness of the place (Crevel's word): "Poor woman! She lives here like some fine picture stowed in a loft by a man who knows nothing of painting." Crevel, seeing Comte Popinot, the Minister of Commerce, buy pictures and statues, wanted also to figure as a Maecenas of Paris, whose love of Art consists in making good investments. Adeline smiled graciously at Crevel, pointing to a chair facing her. "Here I am, fair lady, at your command," said Crevel. Monsieur the Mayor, a political personage, now wore black broadcloth. His face, at the top of this solemn suit, shone like a full moon rising above a mass of dark clouds. His shirt, buttoned with three large pearls worth five hundred francs apiece, gave a great idea of his thoracic capacity, and he was apt to say, "In me you see the coming athlete of the tribune!" His enormous vulgar hands were encased in yellow gloves even in the morning; his patent leather boots spoke of the chocolate-colored coupe with one horse in which he drove. In the course of three years ambition had altered Crevel's pretensions. Like all great artists, he had come to his second manner. In the great world, when he went to the Prince de Wissembourg's, to the Prefecture, to Comte Popinot's, and the like, he held his hat in his hand in an airy manner taught him by Valerie, and he inserted the thumb of the other hand in the armhole of his waistcoat with a knowing air, and a simpering face and expression. This new grace of attitude was due to the satirical inventiveness of Valerie, who, under pretence of rejuvenating her mayor, had given him an added touch of the ridiculous. "I begged you to come, my dear kind Monsieur Crevel," said the Baroness in a husky voice, "on a matter of the greatest importance--" "I can guess what it is, madame," said Crevel, with a knowing air, "but what you would ask is impossible.--Oh, I am not a brutal father, a man--to use Napoleon's words--set hard and fast on sheer avarice. Listen to me, fair lady. If my children were ruining themselves for their own benefit, I would help them out of the scrape; but as for backing your husband, madame? It is like trying to fill the vat of the Danaides! Their house is mortgaged for three hundred thousand francs for an incorrigible father! Why, they have nothing left, poor wretches! And they have no fun for their money. All they have to live upon is what Victorin may make in Court. He must wag his tongue more, must monsieur your son! And he was to have been a Minister, that learned youth! Our hope and pride. A pretty pilot, who runs aground like a land-lubber; for if he had borrowed to enable him to get on, if he had run into debt for feasting Deputies, winning votes, and increasing his influence, I should be the first to say, 'Here is my purse--dip your hand in, my friend!' But when it comes of paying for papa's folly--folly I warned you of!--Ah! his father has deprived him of every chance of power.--It is I who shall be Minister!" "Alas, my dear Crevel, it has nothing to do with the children, poor devoted souls!--If your heart is closed to Victorin and Celestine, I shall love them so much that perhaps I may soften the bitterness of their souls caused by your anger. You are punishing your children for a good action!" "Yes, for a good action badly done! That is half a crime," said Crevel, much pleased with his epigram. "Doing good, my dear Crevel, does not mean sparing money out of a purse that is bursting with it; it means enduring privations to be generous, suffering for liberality! It is being prepared for ingratitude! Heaven does not see the charity that costs us nothing--" "Saints, madame, may if they please go to the workhouse; they know that it is for them the door of heaven. For my part, I am worldly-minded; I fear God, but yet more I fear the hell of poverty. To be destitute is the last depth of misfortune in society as now constituted. I am a man of my time; I respect money." "And you are right," said Adeline, "from the worldly point of view." She was a thousand miles from her point, and she felt herself on a gridiron, like Saint Laurence, as she thought of her uncle, for she could see him blowing his brains out. She looked down; then she raised her eyes to gaze at Crevel with angelic sweetness--not with the inviting suggestiveness which was part of Valerie's wit. Three years ago she could have bewitched Crevel by that beautiful look. "I have known the time," said she, "when you were more generous--you used to talk of three hundred thousand francs like a grand gentleman--" Crevel looked at Madame Hulot; he beheld her like a lily in the last of its bloom, vague sensations rose within him, but he felt such respect for this saintly creature that he spurned all suspicions and buried them in the most profligate corner of his heart. "I, madame, am still the same; but a retired merchant, if he is a grand gentleman, plays, and must play, the part with method and economy; he carries his ideas of order into everything. He opens an account for his little amusements, and devotes certain profits to that head of expenditure; but as to touching his capital! it would be folly. My children will have their fortune intact, mine and my wife's; but I do not suppose that they wish their father to be dull, a monk and a mummy! My life is a very jolly one; I float gaily down the stream. I fulfil all the duties imposed on me by law, by my affections, and by family ties, just as I always used to be punctual in paying my bills when they fell due. If only my children conduct themselves in their domestic life as I do, I shall be satisfied; and for the present, so long as my follies--for I have committed follies--are no loss to any one but the gulls--excuse me, you do not perhaps understand the slang word--they will have nothing to blame me for, and will find a tidy little sum still left when I die. Your children cannot say as much of their father, who is ruining his son and my daughter by his pranks--" The Baroness was getting further from her object as he went on. "You are very unkind about my husband, my dear Crevel--and yet, if you had found his wife obliging, you would have been his best friend----" She shot a burning glance at Crevel; but, like Dubois, who gave the Regent three kicks, she affected too much, and the rakish perfumer's thoughts jumped at such profligate suggestions, that he said to himself, "Does she want to turn the tables on Hulot?--Does she think me more attractive as a Mayor than as a National Guardsman? Women are strange creatures!" And he assumed the position of his second manner, looking at the Baroness with his _Regency_ leer. "I could almost fancy," she went on, "that you want to visit on him your resentment against the virtue that resisted you--in a woman whom you loved well enough--to--to buy her," she added in a low voice. "In a divine woman," Crevel replied, with a meaning smile at the Baroness, who looked down while tears rose to her eyes. "For you have swallowed not a few bitter pills!--in these three years--hey, my beauty?" "Do not talk of my troubles, dear Crevel; they are too much for the endurance of a mere human being. Ah! if you still love me, you may drag me out of the pit in which I lie. Yes, I am in hell torment! The regicides who were racked and nipped and torn into quarters by four horses were on roses compared with me, for their bodies only were dismembered, and my heart is torn in quarters----" Crevel's thumb moved from his armhole, he placed his hand on the work-table, he abandoned his attitude, he smiled! The smile was so vacuous that it misled the Baroness; she took it for an expression of kindness. "You see a woman, not indeed in despair, but with her honor at the point of death, and prepared for everything, my dear friend, to hinder a crime." Fearing that Hortense might come in, she bolted the door; then with equal impetuosity she fell at Crevel's feet, took his hand and kissed it. "Be my deliverer!" she cried. She thought there was some generous fibre in this mercantile soul, and full of sudden hope that she might get the two hundred thousand francs without degrading herself: "Buy a soul--you were once ready to buy virtue!" she went on, with a frenzied gaze. "Trust to my honesty as a woman, to my honor, of which you know the worth! Be my friend! Save a whole family from ruin, shame, despair; keep it from falling into a bog where the quicksands are mingled with blood! Oh! ask for no explanations," she exclaimed, at a movement on Crevel's part, who was about to speak. "Above all, do not say to me, 'I told you so!' like a friend who is glad at a misfortune. Come now, yield to her whom you used to love, to the woman whose humiliation at your feet is perhaps the crowning moment of her glory; ask nothing of her, expect what you will from her gratitude!--No, no. Give me nothing, but lend--lend to me whom you used to call Adeline----" At this point her tears flowed so fast, Adeline was sobbing so passionately, that Crevel's gloves were wet. The words, "I need two hundred thousand francs," were scarcely articulate in the torrent of weeping, as stones, however large, are invisible in Alpine cataracts swollen by the melting of the snows. This is the inexperience of virtue. Vice asks for nothing, as we | shocked | How many times the word 'shocked' appears in the text? | 1 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | up | How many times the word 'up' appears in the text? | 3 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | wonderfull | How many times the word 'wonderfull' appears in the text? | 1 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | monstrous | How many times the word 'monstrous' appears in the text? | 2 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | work | How many times the word 'work' appears in the text? | 2 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | flying | How many times the word 'flying' appears in the text? | 0 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | route | How many times the word 'route' appears in the text? | 0 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | caught | How many times the word 'caught' appears in the text? | 0 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | sacrifice | How many times the word 'sacrifice' appears in the text? | 3 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | online | How many times the word 'online' appears in the text? | 0 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | after | How many times the word 'after' appears in the text? | 2 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | put | How many times the word 'put' appears in the text? | 3 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | regard | How many times the word 'regard' appears in the text? | 0 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | stop | How many times the word 'stop' appears in the text? | 1 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | any | How many times the word 'any' appears in the text? | 3 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | screeched | How many times the word 'screeched' appears in the text? | 0 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | ambitious | How many times the word 'ambitious' appears in the text? | 1 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | scarrs | How many times the word 'scarrs' appears in the text? | 1 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | must | How many times the word 'must' appears in the text? | 3 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | never | How many times the word 'never' appears in the text? | 3 |
your Love a Huntsup. You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to: You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier, A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer, Making of mines, and burying of his honour there? 'Twere good you would think-- _Dol._ And time too, or you will find else A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty. _Ant._ Look out and then believe. _Sce._ No, no, hang danger: Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her: Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour; Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,) You may cry, _C sar_, and see if that will help ye. _C sar_. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies, Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, _Sceva_, To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions, And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em. _Sce._ Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard, Before I goe No more of this warm Lady, She will spoil your sword-hand. _C sar_. Goe: come, let's to Counsel How to prevent, and then to execute. SCENA III. _Enter_ Souldiers. _1 Sold._ Did ye see this Penitence? _2 Sold._ Yes: I saw, and heard it. _3 Sold._ And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it, He's the strangest _Septimus_ now-- _1 Sold._ I heard he was altered, And had given away his Gold to honest uses: Cry'd monstrously. _2 Sold._ He cryes abundantly: He is blind almost with weeping. _3 Sold._ 'Tis most wonderfull That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads-- _1 Sold._ 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents; Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him. His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too He has flung away, and goes like one of us now: Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull, And gives the best instructions.-- _2 Sold._ And tells stories Of honest and good people that were honour'd And how they were remembred: and runs mad If he but hear of any ungratefull person, A bloudy, or betraying man-- _3 Sold._ If it be possible That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered, This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour To see him once again. _Enter_ Septimius. _1 Sold._ He spares us that labour, For here he comes. _Sep._--Bless ye my honest friends, Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. _1 Sold._ Did I not tell ye? _2 Sold._ What book's that? _1 Sold._ No doubt Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you _Septimius_, that base knave, that betray'd _Pompey_? _Sep._ I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers You that have _Roman_ hearts, take heed of falsehood: Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude. The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs, Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it. _2 Sol._ This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows. _[3] Sol._ 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us: _Sep._ Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient, Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye: Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues, Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me. Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty, You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour Are memorable crutches, that shall bear When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity. _1 Sol._ I cry. _2 Sol._ And so do I. _3 Sol._ An excellent villain. _1 Sol._ A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet. _2 Sol._ He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this. _Enter_ Achoreus. Who's this? a Priest? _Sep._ O stay, most holy Sir! And by the Gods of _Egypt_, I conjure ye, (_Isis_, and great _Osiris_) pity me, Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly With what most humble Sacrifice I may Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me? Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies, That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me. _Orestes_ bloody hands fell on his Mother, Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd. _Ach._ _Orestes_ out of madness did his murther, And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men) Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice, Thou art markt for shame eternal. [_Exit._ _Sep._ Look all on me, And let me be a story left to time Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly Ingratitude appears, with all her profits, How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness: To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness-- _1 Sold._ Dost thou want any thing? _Sep._ Nothing but your prayers. _2 Sol._ Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst, We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us. _3 Sol._ Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty _Pompeys_. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas. _Pho._ So penitent? _Achil._ It seems so. _Pho._ Yet for all this We must employ him. _1 Sol._ These are the arm'd Souldier leaders: Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapt else. [_Exeunt._ _Pho._ How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection? _Achil._ Why dost thou weep? _Sep._ Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me, You have made me a famous Villain. _Pho._ Does that touch thee? _Achil._ He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness. _Pho._ He must be won, or we shall want our right hand. This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned. Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? Is Conscience a comrade for an old Soldier? _Achil._ It is not that: it may be some disgrace That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd, _Septimius_ ever scorn'd to shew such weakness. _Sep._ Let me alone; I am not for your purpose, I am now a new man. _Pho._ We have new affairs for thee, Those that would raise thy head. _Sep._ I would 'twere off, And in your bellies for the love you bear me. I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough Already in my breast. _Pho._ Thou shalt be noble: And who dares think then that thou art not honest? _Achil._ Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it? _S[e]p._ I am Rogue enough. _Pho._ Thou wilt be more, and baser: A poor Rogue is all Rogues: open to all shames: Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude? Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee? 'Tis poor and servile: Wert thou thine own Sacrifice 'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out. _Achil._ Keep thy self glorious still, though ne're so stain'd, And that will lessen it, if not work it out. To goe complaining thus, and thus repenting Like a poor Girl that had betrai'd her maide[n]-head-- _Sep._ I'le stop mine ears. _Achil._ Will shew so in a Souldier, So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely-- _Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty, And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee (As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty: If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope. _Sep._ My foolery? _Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery, Thy monstrous misery. _A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken: Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. _Sep._ That this were true! _Pho._ Why does this conquering _C sar_ Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles, Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards? Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel, And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't? Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred, And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it. When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too) And cry for doing daily bloody murthers, Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness, Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience, And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_. _Sep._ He does all this. _Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it; Nay call'd the honour'd _C sar_, so maist thou be: Thou wert born as near a Crown as he. _Sep._ He was poor. _Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. _Sep._ I am afraid you will once more-- _Pho._ Help to raise thee: Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier, And put on resolution like a man, A noble Fate waits on thee. _Sep._ I now feel My self returning Rascal speedily. O that I had the power-- _Achil._ Thou shalt have all: And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee, And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues. _Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize, Puling repentance off. _Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly. _Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence: My daring shall be Deity, to save me: Give me instructions, and put action on me: A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen, And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me, And make me out-dare all my miseries? _Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes. _Sep._ Use me then, Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more, Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit: I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell This huge Oak _C sar_ too. _Pho._ Now thou singst sweetly: And _Ptolomy_ shall crown thee for thy service. _Achil._ He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling. [_Exeunt._ _ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._ _Enter_ C sar, Antony, Dolabella. _Ant._ The tumult still encreases. _C sar_. O my fortune! My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well, And worthily I am made a bondsmans prey, That after all my glorious victories, In which I pass'd so many Seas of dangers, When all the Elements conspir'd against me, Would yield up the dominion of this head To any mortal power: so blind and stupid, To trust these base _Egyptians_, that proclaim'd Their perjuries, in noble _Pompeys_ death, And yet that could not warn me. _Dol._ Be still _C sar_, Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate, Where danger look't most dreadful. _Ant._ If you fall, Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister Be buried in your ruines: on my life They both are guilty: reason may assure you _Photinus_ nor _Achillas_ durst attempt you, Or shake one Dart, or sword, aim'd at your safety, Without their warrant. _C sar_. For the young King I know not How he may be misled; but for his Sister (Unequall'd _Cleopatra_) 'twere a kind Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason Durst never dwell in such a glorious building, Nor can so clear and great a spirit, as hers is, Admit of falsehood. _Ant._ Let us seize on him then: And leave her to her fortune. _Dol._ If he have power Use it to your security, and let His honesty acquit him: if he be false It is too great an honour he should dye By your victorious hand. _C sar_. He comes: and I Shall do as I find cause. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. _Ptol._ Let not great _C sar_ Impute the breach of hospitality, To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd, And my rebellious subjects lift their hands Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther, Provided that I fell a sacrifice To gain you safety: that this is not feign'd, The boldness of my innocence may confirm you: Had I been privy to their bloody plot, I now had led them on, and given fair gloss To their bad cause, by being present with them: But I that yet taste of the punishment, In being false to _Pompey_, will not make A second fault to _C sar_ uncompel'd With such as have not yet shook off obedience, I yield my self to you, and will take part In all your dangers. _C sar_. This pleads your excuse, And I receive it. _Ach._ If they have any touch Of justice, or religion, I will use The authority of our Gods, to call them back From their bad purpose. _Apo._ This part of the palace Is yet defensible: we may make it good, Till your powers rescue us. _C sar_. _C sar_ besieg'd? O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom, An Army routed, as my feet had wings To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd? My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity, To which the Gods must yield, and I obey, 'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [_Exeunt._ SCENA II. _Enter_ Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, _Souldiers._ _Pho._ There's no retiring now, we are broke in: The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper 'Twill be stil'd lawful!, and we shall give laws To those that now command us: stop not at Or loyalty, or duty: bold ambition, To dare and power to do, gave the first difference Between the King, and subject, _C sars Motto_, _Aut C sar aut Nihil_, each of us must claim, And use it as our own. _Achil._ The deed is bloody If we conclude in _Ptolomies_ death. _Pho._ The better, The globe of Empire must be so manur'd. _Sep._ _Rome_, that from _Romulus_ first took her name, Had her walls water'd with a Crimson showr Drain'd from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd To this prodigious height, that overlooks Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute, But by enlarging of her [n]arrow bounds By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, not made hers Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those That did possess 'em: _C sar, Ptolomy_, (Now I am steel'd) to me are empty names Esteem'd as _Pompeys_ was. _Pho._ Well said _Septimius_, Thou now art right again. _Achil._ But what course take we For the Princess _Cleopatra_? _Pho._ Let her live Awhile to make us sport: she shall authorize Our undertakings to the ignorant people, As if what we do were by her command: But our _triumvirat_ Government once confirm'd, She bears her Brother company, that's my Province: Leave me to work her. _Achil._ I will undertake For _Ptolomy_. _Sep._ _C sar_ shall be my task, And as in _Pompey_ I began a name I'le perfect it in _C sar_. _Enter (above)_ C sar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony, Dolabella. _Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then, We'll force our passage. _Achil._ See, they do appear As they desir'd a Parley. _Pho._ I am proud yet I have brought 'em to capitulate. _Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_? _Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_? _Ptol._ No addition? _Pho._ We are equal, Though _C sars_ name were put into the scale, In which our worth is weigh'd. _C s._ Presumptuous Villain, Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise Thy servile hand against the King, or me, That have a greater name? _Pho._ On those, by which Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_ Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_, The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country, Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then? Think on that, _C sar_. _C s._ O the gods! be brav'd thus, And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour? _Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point, And must descend. _Pho._ Despair, and think we stand The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs, Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. _Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_ That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War Expect revenge. _Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember There was a _Pompey_? _Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us: If that against the odds we have upon you You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._ _Ant._ Let us dye nobly; And rather fall upon each others Sword Than come into these Villains hands. _C s._ That Fortune, Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _C sar_, Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns, Will smile again upon me: who will pay her, Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake Her best of works in me? or suffer him, Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously A life admir'd by all? The threatned danger Must by a way more horrid be avoided, And I will run the hazard; Fire the Palace, And the rich Magazines that neighbour it, In which the Wealth of _Egypt_ is contain'd: Start not, it shall be so; that while the people Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, Like C sar, with this handful of my friends Through Fire, and Swords I force a passage to My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'd follow Where _C sar_ leads, or live or dye a Free-man; If not, stay here a Bond-man to thy Slave, And dead, be thought unworthy of a Grave. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter_ Septimius. _Sept._ I feel my resolution melts again And that I am not Knave alone, but fool, In all my purposes. The Devil, _Photinus_, Employs me as a Property, and grown useless Will shake me off again; he told me so When I kill'd _Pompey_; nor can I hope better, When _C sar_ is dispatch'd; Services done For such as only study their own ends, Too great to be rewarded, are return'd With deadly hate; I learn'd this Principle In his own School, yet still he fools me, well; And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I That kill'd my General, and a _Roman_, one To whom I ow'd all nourishments of life, Be true to an _Egyptian_? To save _C sar_, And turn _Photinus's_ plots on his own head, As it is in my power, redeem my credit, And live to lye and swear again in fashion, Oh, 'twere a master-piece! ha!--me _C sar_, How's he got off? _Enter_ C sar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dolabella, Achoreus, Apollodorus, _Souldiers._ _C s._ The fire has took, And shews the City like a second _Troy_, The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy To save their Wealth and Houses, whilst their Souldiers Make spoil of all; only _Achillas's_ Troops Make good their Guard, break through them, we are safe; I'll lead you like a Thunder-bolt. _Sept._ Stay, _C sar_. _C s._ Who's this? the Dog, _Septimius_? _Ant._ Cut his throat. _Dol._ You bark'd but now, fawn you so soon? _Sept._ O hear me, What I'll deliver is for _C sars_ safety, For all your good. _Ant._ Good from a mouth like thine, That never belch'd but blasphemy, and treason on Festival days! _Sept._ I am an altered man, altered indeed, And will give you cause to say I am a _Roman_. _Dol._ Rogue, I grant thee. _Sept._ Trust me, I'll make the passage smooth, and easie For your escape. _Ant._ I'll trust the Devil sooner, And make a safer Bargain. _Sept._ I am trusted With all _Photinus's_ secrets. _Ant._ There's no doubt then Thou wilt be false. _Sept._ Still to be true to you. _Dol._ And very likely. _C s._ Be brief, the means? _Sept._ Thus, _C sar_, To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd A dismal Vault, whose dreadful mouth does open A mile beyond the City: in this Cave Lye but two hours conceal'd. _Ant._ If you believe him, He'll bury us alive. _Dol._ I'll flye in the Air first. _Sept._ Then in the dead of night I'll bring you back Into a private room, where you shall find _Photinus_, and _Achillas_, and the rest Of their Commanders close at Council. _C s._ Good, what follows? _Sept._ Fall me fairly on their throats, Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse. _C s._ O Devil! away with him; Nor true to Friend nor Enemy? _C sar_ scorns To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs So base a way; or owe the means of life To such a leprous Traytor, I have towr'd For Victory like a Faulcon in the Clouds, Nor dig'd for't like a Mole; our Swords and Cause Make way for us, and that it may appear We took a noble Course, and hate base Treason, Some Souldiers that would merit _C sar's_ favour, Hang him on yonder Turret, and then follow The lane this Sword makes for you. [_Exit._ _1 Sold._ Here's a Belt, Though I dye for it I'll use it. _2 Sold._ 'Tis too good To truss a Cur in. _Sept._ Save me, here's Gold. _1 Sold._ If _Rome_ Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help thee. _2 Sold._ Hang not an arse. _1 Sold._ Goad him on with thy Sword; Thou dost deserve a worser end, and may All such conclude so, that their friends betray. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter (severally)_ Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra. _Ars._ We are lost. _Eros_. Undone. _Ars._ Confusion, Fire, and Swords, And fury in the Souldiers face more horrid Circle us round. _Eros_. The Kings Command they laugh at, And jeer at _C sars_ threats. _Ars._ My Brother seiz'd on By the _Roman_, as thought guilty of the tumult, And forc'd to bear him company, as mark'd out For his protection or revenge. _Eros_. They have broke Into my Cabinet; my Trunks are ransack'd. _Ars._ I have lost my jewels too: but that's the least: The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity, Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little Dog, And broke my Monkeys Chain. _Eros_. They rifled me: But that I could endure, would they proceed no further. _Ars._ O my Sister! _Eros_. My Queen, my Mistress! _Ars._ Can you stand unmov'd When the Earth-quake of Rebellion shakes the City, And the Court trembles? _Cleo._ Yes, _Arsino_, And with a Masculine Constancy deride Fortunes worst malice, as a Servant to My Vertues, not a Mistress; then we forsake The strong Fort of our selves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my self, And though disrob'd of Soveraignty, and ravish'd Of ceremonious duty, that attends it, Nay, grant they had slav'd my Body, my free mind Like to the Palm-tree walling fruitful _Nile_, Shall grow up straighter and enlarge it self 'Spight of the envious weight that loads it with: Think of thy Birth (_Arsino_) common burdens Fit common Shoulders; teach the multitude By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at; The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls) Cannot arrive at. _Ars._ I am new created, And owe this second being to you (best Sister) For now I feel you have infus'd into me Part of your fortitude. _Eros_. I still am fearful; I dare not tell a lie; you that were born Daughters and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid Must not presume to rival. _Cleo._ Yet (my _Eros_) Though thou hast profited nothing by observing The whole course of my life, learn in my death, Though not to equal, yet to imitate Thy fearless Mistress. _Enter_ Photinus. _Eros_. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? _Cleo._ Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. _Pho._ Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. _Cleo._ What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into _Egypt_? That Face speaks thee, _Photinus_, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of _C sar_ Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To _C sar_, and my Brother. _Pho._ Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To _Ptolomy_ or _C sar_, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. _Cleo._ How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? _Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _C sar_, By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For _C sar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, _Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _C sars_ is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that _C sars_ threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear. _Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to _Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? _Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, _Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel _Rome_, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. _Cleo._ Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? _Pho._ They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did _Jove_ look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. _Cleo._ Most impious! _Pho._ They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If _Nemesis_, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than _Stix_ is to your gods) weak _Ptolomy_ dead, And _C sar_ (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young _Arsino_, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. _Cleo._ To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. _Pho._ I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. _Cleo._ Never, I was born to command, and will dye so. _Enter_ Achillas, _and Souldiers, with the Body of_ Ptolomy. _Pho._ The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. _Ars._ Oh my dear Brother! _Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _C sar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer | had | How many times the word 'had' appears in the text? | 3 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | perceptible | How many times the word 'perceptible' appears in the text? | 3 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | western | How many times the word 'western' appears in the text? | 2 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | dark | How many times the word 'dark' appears in the text? | 0 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | broad | How many times the word 'broad' appears in the text? | 1 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | hastened | How many times the word 'hastened' appears in the text? | 1 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | christmas | How many times the word 'christmas' appears in the text? | 0 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | stubborn | How many times the word 'stubborn' appears in the text? | 0 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | galette | How many times the word 'galette' appears in the text? | 2 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | three | How many times the word 'three' appears in the text? | 2 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | will | How many times the word 'will' appears in the text? | 3 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | formed | How many times the word 'formed' appears in the text? | 2 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | existing | How many times the word 'existing' appears in the text? | 0 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | caused | How many times the word 'caused' appears in the text? | 2 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | fussed | How many times the word 'fussed' appears in the text? | 0 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | entertainments | How many times the word 'entertainments' appears in the text? | 0 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | under | How many times the word 'under' appears in the text? | 3 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | daylight | How many times the word 'daylight' appears in the text? | 1 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | i'm | How many times the word 'i'm' appears in the text? | 0 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | caught | How many times the word 'caught' appears in the text? | 1 |
your own business," was the captain's brusque rejoinder. All discomfited and bewildered, Ben Zoof retired without a word. During the ensuing days the distance between the two planets continued to decrease, and it became more and more obvious that the earth, on her new orbit, was about to cross the orbit of Venus. Throughout this time the earth had been making a perceptible approach towards Mercury, and that planet--which is rarely visible to the naked eye, and then only at what are termed the periods of its greatest eastern and western elongations--now appeared in all its splendor. It amply justified the epithet of "sparkling" which the ancients were accustomed to confer upon it, and could scarcely fail to awaken a new interest. The periodic recurrence of its phases; its reflection of the sun's rays, shedding upon it a light and a heat seven times greater than that received by the earth; its glacial and its torrid zones, which, on account of the great inclination of the axis, are scarcely separable; its equatorial bands; its mountains eleven miles high;--were all subjects of observation worthy of the most studious regard. But no danger was to be apprehended from Mercury; with Venus only did collision appear imminent. By the 18th of January the distance between that planet and the earth had become reduced to between two and three millions of miles, and the intensity of its light cast heavy shadows from all terrestrial objects. It might be observed to turn upon its own axis in twenty-three hours twenty-one minutes--an evidence, from the unaltered duration of its days, that the planet had not shared in the disturbance. On its disc the clouds formed from its atmospheric vapor were plainly perceptible, as also were the seven spots, which, according to Bianchini, are a chain of seas. It was now visible in broad daylight. Buonaparte, when under the Directory, once had his attention called to Venus at noon, and immediately hailed it joyfully, recognizing it as his own peculiar star in the ascendant. Captain Servadac, it may well be imagined, did not experience the same gratifying emotion. On the 20th, the distance between the two bodies had again sensibly diminished. The captain had ceased to be surprised that no vessel had been sent to rescue himself and his companion from their strange imprisonment; the governor general and the minister of war were doubtless far differently occupied, and their interests far otherwise engrossed. What sensational articles, he thought, must now be teeming to the newspapers! What crowds must be flocking to the churches! The end of the world approaching! the great climax close at hand! Two days more, and the earth, shivered into a myriad atoms, would be lost in boundless space! These dire forebodings, however, were not destined to be realized. Gradually the distance between the two planets began to increase; the planes of their orbits did not coincide, and accordingly the dreaded catastrophe did not ensue. By the 25th, Venus was sufficiently remote to preclude any further fear of collision. Ben Zoof gave a sigh of relief when the captain communicated the glad intelligence. Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. "Had there been such a satellite," said Servadac, "we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning," he added seriously, "of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?" "What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?" asked Ben Zoof. "Do you mean the Observatory?" "Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?" "Very likely; but what of that?" "Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation." Servadac smiled. "Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?" he asked. "I am a soldier, sir," was the servant's prompt rejoinder, "and I have learnt to know that 'what can't be cured must be endured.'" The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master's apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight. "A ship!" exclaimed Servadac, starting to his feet. "A ship! Ben Zoof, you donkey! you speak as unconcernedly as though you were telling me that my dinner was ready." "Are we not philosophers, captain?" said the orderly. But the captain was out of hearing. CHAPTER IX. INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore; but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner--an impression that was confirmed when, two hours later, she came entirely in sight. "The _Dobryna_!" exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye unmoved at his telescope. "Impossible, sir!" rejoined Ben Zoof; "there are no signs of smoke." "The _Dobryna_!" repeated the captain, positively. "She is under sail; but she is Count Timascheff's yacht." He was right. If the count were on board, a strange fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the _Dobryna_, he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy, and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the rescue of himself and his orderly. The wind being adverse, the _Dobryna_ did not make very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted. Servadac took it for granted that the _Dobryna_ was endeavoring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island, where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast. They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of its waters. Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the waters--a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion. Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his entire attention to the _Dobryna_, which, now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him. "First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one other word, tell me what has happened." The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have the honor of finding you on an island." "I assure you, count, I have never left the place." "I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you." "Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened." "The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac." "Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into an island?" "Nothing more than you know yourself." "But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean--" "Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land." The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any of the phenomena. "On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days. That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change of position." He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen." "Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?" "My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour round the world." "A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think," said the captain, smiling. The count shook his head. "I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world." Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in thought. After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on the river banks of Europe. Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the _Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be replenished. The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready to put to sea. Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely transpired. It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_. Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped. On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain" had been left unmoved. Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea. CHAPTER X. A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters. The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety. Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching, however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the diminution in her proper rate of speed. For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate need. Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that, although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work of the sextant, which had become utterly useless. On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which remained so inexplicable to them all. "It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown cause has drawn nearer to the sun." "No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the orbit of Mercury." "And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count. "There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being precipitated onto the sun." "Can you satisfy us of that?" asked the count. "I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you dread would inevitably happen." "And what demonstration do you offer," asked Servadac eagerly, "that it will not happen?" "Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of the distance to be traversed to reach the sun." The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added: "Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing; the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the equatorial zone." Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which, they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige. Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope. Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3 degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth. Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly, almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France, only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal any traces of the Algerian metropolis. "Is it not impossible," he murmured aloud, "that any city should disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged. Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss." Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered. To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by the flood? The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells; the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean. "You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the coast of Algeria as you imagined." The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: "If we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am puzzled." For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of marine production of any type. The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea, was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and return in disappointment towards the north. Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria. CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on them at least to ascertain its extent. After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that coast had been lost in boundless sea. Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude of more than 7,000 feet. Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly; its marabouts, | coming | How many times the word 'coming' appears in the text? | 1 |