Vladimir Nabokov - The Tragedy of Mister Morn

ELLA [ aside ]:

How amusing!… I opened

and read someone else’s letter… Handwriting

like the wind, and the smell of the south… I

resealed it, just as father once showed me

in jest… Morn and Midia are together!

How can I give it to him? He thinks that she

is living in that old-fashioned backwater

that she comes from… How to give it to him? …

GANUS [ approaching ]:

You’re up early. Me too… We seldom meet

now, Ella: another festivity coincided

with your wedding…

ELLA:

Morning—an azure

miracle—and not a morning… it trickles… whispers…

Has Klian gone?

GANUS:

He’s gone… Tell me, Ella,

are you happy?

ELLA:

What is happiness? The flutter

of wings, or perhaps a snowflake on one’s lip—

that is happiness… Who said that? I don’t recall…

No, Ganus, I was wrong, you know… But

how bright it is today, it’s practically spring!

Everything trickles…

GANUS:

Ella, Ella, did you ever

think that the daughter of a powerless rebel

would live in a palace?

ELLA:

Oh, Ganus, I miss

our little old rooms, our peace, the fireplace,

the paintings… Listen: lately I’ve come to realize

that my father is mad! We have fallen out

with one another; now we’re not speaking…

I believed in it at first… What for! Rebellion

for the sake of rebellion is both boring

and horrifying—like night-time embraces

without love…

GANUS:

Yes, Ella, you have truly

understood…

ELLA:

The other day all the squares

gazed at the sky… Laughter, screams, howls

of fury… Saving themselves from the flames,

the flyers soared up from all directions, came

together like crystal swallows, and quietly

the shimmering flock slipped away. One

fell behind and froze for a moment above

the tower, as though he had left his nest there,

and then unwillingly caught up his sorrowful

companions,—and all of them melted away

into a crystal dust in the sky… I realized,

when they had disappeared, when in my eyes

swam blinding circles—from the sun—

I suddenly realized… that I love you…

[ Pause . ELLA looks out of the window .]

GANUS:

I have

remembered!… Ella, Ella… How frightening!…

ELLA:

No, no, no—keep silent, dear. I look

at you, I look into the palace garden,

I look into myself, and now I know

that all is one: my love and the raw sun,

your pale face and the bright trickling icicles

beneath the roof, the amber spot upon

the porous sugary snow mound, the raw sun

and my love, my love…

GANUS:

I’ve remembered:

it was ten o’clock, and you left, and I

could have stopped you… Yet another blind,

momentary sin…

ELLA:

I don’t need anything

from you… Ganus, I will never tell you again.

And if I told you now, it was only because

the snow today is so translucent… Really,

all is well… Days follow days… And then

I will become a mother… other thoughts

unwillingly will occupy me. But now,

you are mine, like the sun! Days will flow

after days… What do you think—perhaps

one day… when your sorrow…

GANUS:

Don’t ask me, Ella!

I don’t want to even think of love!

I answer like a woman… Forgive me… But I

burn with something other, I’m filled with something

other… I dream only of the austere wings,

the straight brows of angels. For a while

I will go to them—away from life, away

from fires, away from greedy dreams… I know

a monastery entangled by cool wisteria.

There I will live; through iridescent glass

I’ll look on God, listen as the bellows

of the organ breathe the world’s soul

up to the triumphant heights, and think

about vain feats, about a hero who prays

in the murk of sleeping myrtles, amidst

the fire-flies of Gethsemane…

ELLA:

Oh, Ganus…

I forgot… here, a letter came yesterday…

addressed to my father, with a note saying

it’s for you…

GANUS:

A letter? For me? Show me…

Ah! I knew it! Don’t…

ELLA:

So, can I

tear it up?

GANUS:

Of course.

ELLA:

Give it to me…

GANUS:

Wait…

I don’t know… that smell… that handwriting,

which flies headlong into my memory,

into my soul… Wait! I won’t let it in.

ELLA:

Well, read it…

GANUS:

And let it in? Read it? So that

the old pain can unfurl itself once more?

Once you asked me, should you go… Now

I ask you, shall I read it? Shall I?

ELLA:

I answer: no.

GANUS:

You’re right! There! To shreds… And put this heap

of dried falling stars here… under the table…

in the basket woven with a coat-of-arms…

My hands smell of perfume… There… It’s over.

ELLA:

Oh, how bright it is today!… The spring

shines through… Chirruping. The snow is melting.

There are droplets on the black branches…

Let’s go, let’s go, for a walk, Ganus? Do you

want to?

GANUS:

Yes, Ella, yes! I am free,

free! Let’s go.

ELLA:

You wait here… I’ll go

get dressed… I won’t be long…

[ Leaves .]

GANUS [ alone, looking out of the window ]:

Yes, truly,

it is wonderful; a beautiful day! A pigeon

flew by there… Brightness, dampness… wonderful!

A workman forgot his spade… Somehow she lives

out there, at her sister’s, in that distant place…

Does she know of his death?… Begone, you

cunning devil! Because of you, I destroyed

my homeland… Enough! I hate this woman…

Come back to me, O music of repentance!

Prayers, prayers… I am free, I am free…

[ Slowly TREMENS and the four REBELS return, with KLIAN behind them .]

FIRST REBEL:

Be more careful, Tremens, don’t be angry,

understand, you must be more careful!

It’s a dangerous path… You yourself have

heard: under torture they sang of the King…

ever more finely, ever more blissfully…

The King is a dream… The King has not died

in their souls, merely grown quiet… the dream

folded its wings—a moment—and now extends them…

KLIAN:

My leader, it’s gone eight; the city is awake,

it stirs… The people call you to the square…

TREMENS:

Coming, coming…

[ to the FIRST REBEL]

So what are you saying?

FIRST REBEL:

I’m saying that a winged legend flies,

turning in the sun! Mothers whisper

the fairy tale to their children… Beggars

speak of the King over home-brewed beer…

How can you outlaw the wind itself?

You are too angry, too merciless.

It’s a dangerous path! Be more careful,

we ask, there’s nothing stronger than a dream!…

TREMENS:

I’ll break its neck! You dare to teach me? I’ll break it!

Or, perhaps, the dream is dear to you?

SECOND REBEL:

You have misunderstood us, Tremens,

we wanted to warn you…

KLIAN:

The King is nothing but

a straw scarecrow…

TREMENS:

Enough! Leave me, you

woeful cowards! Ganus, well then, have you…

decided?

GANUS:

Tremens, truly, do not torment me…

You know yourself. I want only prayer,

only prayer…

TREMENS:

Leave, and quickly!

I have suffered you too long… Everything