Vladimir Nabokov - The Tragedy of Mister Morn

I pity!

TREMENS:

… your opponent is just some flitting,

flashy buffoon; but if he should draw death

from the fist by its little white ear, I would be

content: one less soul on this earth… Oh, how

I long to sleep…

GANUS:

Five, five minutes left!…

TREMENS:

Yes: this is the hour I go to bed…

[ELLA returns .]

ELLA:

Here, take them. I could barely find them…

My face drifts up out of the semi-darkness

to meet me, like a murky jellyfish, and

the mirror is like black water… And my hair

is tired and dishevelled… And I—a bride.

I—a bride… Ganus, are you happy for me? …

GANUS:

I don’t know… Yes, of course I’m happy…

ELLA:

After all, he’s a poet, he’s a genius,

unlike you…

GANUS:

Yes, Ella… Well, well…

soon the clock will strike… strike through my soul…

Oh, what does it matter!…

ELLA:

Can I ask you

something? You have told me nothing, Ganus—

what happened there when we left? Ganus!

Well, then—he’s silent… Are you really angry

with me? Truly, I did not know that our

little masquerade would not come off…

How can I help? Perhaps there are some words—

they flower in the shadows of high songs,—

I’ll find them. What a foolish, sulking man,

he bites his lips, and doesn’t want to know me…

I will be understanding… Look at me…

It is sinful to be silent with me. What else

is there for me to say?

GANUS:

What, Ella, what

do you want from me? You want to talk?

Oh, let’s, let’s talk! About anything you want!

About unfaithful women, about poets,

about spirits, about the blind gut and its

missing glasses, about fashion, about the planets—

whisper, roar with laughter, chatter over

one another, chatter ceaselessly! Well,

what then? I’m having fun!… O, God!…

ELLA:

Don’t!…

You’re hurting me… You cannot understand.

Don’t. Ah! It’s striking ten…

GANUS:

Ella—look—

I’ll tell you… I must ask you to… Listen…

ELLA:

What card is that? Even?

GANUS:

Yes, it’s even—

what difference does it make… Listen…

ELLA:

An eight.

I’ve thought of a number. Klian will be waiting

at ten. When I go—it will all be over. The card

says—to stay…

GANUS:

No—go! Please, go!

It is meant to be! Believe me! I know—

love does not wait!…

ELLA:

Listless languor

and a slight chill… Is that really love?

In any case, I shall do as you tell me…

GANUS:

Go, quickly, quickly!—before he wakes up…

ELLA:

No, but why? He will allow me to go…

Father, wake up. I’m leaving.

TREMENS:

Oh… the pain…

Where are you going so late? No, stay,

I need you.

ELLA [to GANUS]:

Shall I stay?

GANUS [ quietly ]:

No, no, no…

I beg you, I beg you!…

ELLA:

You… You… are

pitiful.

[ She goes out, throwing on a fur wrap .]

TREMENS:

Ella! Wait! Damn her…

GANUS:

She’s gone, gone… The door downstairs crashed

like glassy thunder… I feel relieved now…

[ Pause .]

It’s after ten… I don’t understand…

TREMENS:

To be late is duelling etiquette. Or maybe

he’s lost his nerve.

GANUS:

There is another rule

as well: not to insult someone else’s

opponent…

TREMENS:

And I will tell you this: the soul

must fear death as a maiden fears love. Ganus,

what do you feel?

GANUS:

The fire and cold of revenge,

and I stare steadily into the cat-like eyes

of steely fear: the animal tamer knows

that he need only turn away—the beast

will spring. But, fear apart, there is another

feeling, gloomily watching over me…

TREMENS [yawns]:

Damned drowsiness…

GANUS:

This feeling is the worst

of all… Here, Tremens, a business letter—

send it by post; here, a letter to my wife—

give it to her yourself… Oh, how it sticks

in the throat, oh, how it sticks!… Stay calm…

TREMENS:

So.

Did you look at the stamp? I can always feel

that taut neck under my fingers… You must

help me, Ganus, if death spares you… Help me…

We’ll find some savage mercenaries… We’ll

penetrate the gloomy palace…

GANUS:

Don’t

distract me with your mad drowsy muttering.

For me, Tremens, this is very hard…

TREMENS:

Sweet sleep…

Everlasting sleep… My lashes stick together.

Wake me…

GANUS:

He sleeps. He sleeps… fiery and blind!

Shall I reveal it to you, shall I? Oh, how

late they are! The anticipation will kill me…

O, God! Shall I reveal it? It’s all so simple:

not a meeting, not a duel, but a trap…

one short gunshot… Tremens himself will do it,

not I, and he will say that I have placed

higher than honour the cold duty of a rebel,

and he’ll give thanks to me… Away, away,

trembling temptation! There is but one reply,

but one reply to you,—the disdainful one—

it is ignoble. Ah, here—they come… Oh,

that carefree laugh behind the door… Tremens!

Wake up! It’s time!

TREMENS:

What! Oh! They’ve come?

Who is that laughing there? A familiar lilt? …

[MORN and EDMIN enter .]

EDMIN:

Allow me to introduce Mister Morn.

TREMENS:

Delighted to be at your service. Have we met?

MORN [ laughs ]:

I don’t recall.

TREMENS:

In my half-sleep it seemed…

But it doesn’t matter… Where is the arbiter?

That sprightly old man—Ella’s godfather—

what’s his name… oh, my memory!

EDMIN:

Dandilio

will be here shortly. He doesn’t know anything.

It’s better that way.

TREMENS:

Yes, fate is blind. That’s

an old joke. Sleep overcomes me. Forgive me,

I am unwell.

[ Two groups: to the right, by the fire , TREMENS and GANUS; to the left, on the darker side of the room , MORN and EDMIN.]

GANUS:

Waiting… more waiting…

I’m getting weak, I cannot bear this…

TREMENS:

Oh,

Ganus, poor Ganus! You are the mirror

of suffering; oh, to breathe some warmth

into you to cloud the glass! Look, for instance:

a kind of warm shadow swathes your opponent.

He gazes at my paintings, whistles quietly…

I cannot see, but it seems his face is calm…

MORN [ to EDMIN]:

Look: a green meadow, and there, beyond it,

a forest of firs in black oils, a pair

of clouds pierced by slanting golden light…

the time is nearly evening… and in the air,

perhaps, a church bell… the midges swarm…

Ah, to go there, to go into that picture,

into the reverie of its green, airy colours…

EDMIN:

Your calm is a pledge of immortality.

You are magnificent.

MORN:

You know, it amuses me:

I have been here before. It amuses me,

I keep wanting to laugh… My unhappy

opponent dares not look me in the eye.

I repeat that you were wrong to tell him…

EDMIN:

But I wanted to save half the world!…

TREMENS [ from his chair ]:

Which is the picture you like? I can’t see—

is it the birches over a backwater?

MORN:

No,—

evening, a green meadow… Who painted it?

TREMENS: