Index     1     2     3

ACT THREE

SCENE: The same.

The following morning.

The heavy Fortuny drapes are drawn. The terrace doors are open. HERNANDEZ, CLAY'S Mexican lawyer, is pacing the room anxiously. He is a tall, rather distinguished, highly bred Spaniard, with snow-white hair. Wears pince-nez. He appears to be in quite a state.

CLAY—Hernandez, what's up? What's this rush to see me?

HERNANDEZ—I am troubled, Señor Rainier. Extremely troubled.

CLAY—[As he goes to bar] Are you? Have a drink. Calm down.

HERNANDEZ—No, thank you. My doctor forbids—

CLAY—[Pouring himself a drink] So does mine. But I retain my independence. What is it?

HERNANDEZ—It's—I must be frank, Señor Rainier. As your attorney, I must be frank.

CLAY—[Indicating armchair] Well, be frank! But also be brief. Sit down. I'm leaving on my plane in half an hour.

HERNANDEZ—[Sitting in armchair] Back to the States?

CLAY—No. Other direction. Well, come out with it.

HERNANDEZ—[Embarrassed, but spurting it out] It's your daughter's friend, Señor Baird. He is making difficulties for us, Señor Rainier. Grave difficulties.

CLAY—Is he? How?

HERNANDEZ—He has encouraged the peons up North to take their case to Mexico City.

CLAY—Don't worry, Hernandez, I've already taken practical steps.

HERNANDEZ—It may not be so simple. Once they get to Mexico City it may not be so simple. He has encouraged the peons to believe that you got these rights fraudulently. He has encouraged them to believe that they have a case.

CLAY—They will listen to reason—I'm not afraid.

HERNANDEZ—You forget, they are Indians—they are animals. They are so fanatical about their land, that they do not understand money.

CLAY—I have the rights. Signed by the Governor when I first got them. I expect the local people to maintain them. Is there law and order in this Province or not? Is there, or isn't there?

HERNANDEZ—It is not the local government that worries me. They are most sympathetic to you, believe me, Señor Rainier. I have strong connections in the State capital and I am sure of them. But I must advise you that if this delegation of agitators goes to Mexico City, the government there will be very sympathetic to them.

CLAY—[Sitting on sofa] My Embassy will protect me. They're not all like Baird.

HERNANDEZ—I must be candid and tell you that I doubt whether your Embassy would care to do much for you. [Sits beside CLAY. Swims in nostalgia] Ah, you do not regret the disintegration that has taken place here more than I do. When I was young, in the days of Diaz—life was so beautifully organized. You knew what you had to pay—but you also knew what you could count on. So much for a police-chief, so much for a mayor, so much for a deputy, so much for a governor—there was even a price-scale for the President himself—though this was exorbitant!

CLAY—[Impatient] I'm getting sick of this country, Hernandez. It's more trouble than it's worth. I'm thinking of leaving it.

HERNANDEZ—[Panicky at the prospect of losing a valuable client] Not, I trust, permanently?

CLAY—That depends on how you people behave. [FERNE comes downstairs, dressed for traveling. When she sees that CLAY is engaged she walks out on the terrace. CLAY now makes short shrift of HERNANDEZ. He is anxious to speak to FERNE.]

HERNANDEZ—Do not blame me for these canailles. If you could persuade Señor Baird—

CLAY—[Propelling HERNANDEZ to door] Leave Baird to me. That's all, Hernandez. Thank you very much.

HERNANDEZ—[As he bows out] Au revoir!

CLAY—Thank you very much. [HERNANDEZ goes. CLAY turns to meet FERNE, who is now coming into the room. He decides to alleviate, in advance, any grievance she may have] Good morning. Ferne, last night, in my alcoholic haze, I said things that perhaps, if I were strictly sober, I would not have said. I don't remember what they were exactly, but if I said anything to offend you, I apologize. Blanket apology.

FERNE—I'm leaving you.

CLAY—What?

FERNE—I'm leaving you.

CLAY—What, again?

FERNE—Finally. Do you remember, when we got married, I had a little money that I'd saved? I gave it to you to invest. Could I have it back, please? It's embarrassing, but I have to ask you for traveling expenses. I've been a millionaire's wife for four years, but I've never had a penny of my own!

CLAY—You've had everything anybody could want.

FERNE—Except money of my own.

CLAY—It always comes down to money, doesn't it?

FERNE—I just want back what I gave you.

CLAY—I gave it to the office to invest. Routine matter. Get in touch with the office.

FERNE—I need cash for traveling expenses.

CLAY—You wrestle with your soul. You torture yourself into heroic decisions. Then you're stuck for carfare! Where're you going when you get it?

FERNE—I've written to Doctor Valey. At the Institute where I was working when I married you.

CLAY—I'm sick of hearing about that God-damned Institute. [Sprawls on sofa] I know your precious Doctor Valey and a more boring old dodo I never met. Now, stop romanticizing your past. It was monotonous and dreary. In a month you'd be wiring me for money to come back with! Save yourself the trouble! Save me the trouble!

FERNE—[Quietly] You may undermine me in everything, Clay. Except in one thing—my determination to leave you.

CLAY—[Wheedling] Why won't you face the truth, my darling? It will make life so much easier for you. [He comes closer to her, more ingratiating still] Why won't you face the truth? You're not one of these bleak suffragettes or career-women, thank God. You're feminine and soft, also, thank God. You need a man. You need a strong man. You need me. I am the center of your life. [He puts his hand on her arm. She moves it away from him abruptly] You're a bit neurotic. Without me, you are weak. In your heart, you know what I say is true.

FERNE—Please, Clay, let me have my money back.

CLAY—How much was it?

FERNE—I don't remember exactly. A few thousand dollars.

CLAY—And how long will that last you?

FERNE—Long enough to get on my feet again. [A pause. He is dark with anger.]

CLAY—I won't give you a penny. [He goes to bar.]

FERNE—Then I'll borrow it.

CLAY—From whom? [Pours a stiff drink.]

FERNE—From anybody. From Miguel. From Robert. From Jim. [This last, somehow, gives the final twist to his anger.]

CLAY—From Baird!

FERNE—I just called him on the telephone. I told him I was leaving you. He is willing to help me. I don't mind taking help from him—Why not?

CLAY—Why not, indeed! He has nothing. I'm sure he'll be willing to share it with you.

FERNE—Why, since you have defeated him, since you have taken Zelda away from him, do you continue to hate him so? I think I know. It is because he himself did not succumb to you. He refused your bribe. Rather bad for you, isn't it? Spoils your pet theory about people. That anyone can be bought. That anyone can be held, if you want sufficiently to hold them. Well, you've failed with him. You can't endure that, can you? Yes, Clay. You've failed with Jim. And you've failed with me, too. [A pause. She is suddenly faced with the full implications of her step] Well, there's nothing more, is there? End of marriage. I thought it was forever. One-man woman I always thought myself. There I'll be—in circulation again. There I'll be. Good-bye, Clay. Good luck. [Overcome with emotion, she starts upstairs. She is stopped by an outcry from CLAY. A voice she has never heard before.]

CLAY—Ferne! Ferne! [He is beside her] Don't leave me, Ferne. I beg you. You mustn't leave me!

FERNE—[Amazed—she has never seen him like this] But, Clay—

CLAY—Yes, Ferne, I beg you. That's not easy for me. But I beg you.

FERNE—You don't need me. You don't need any woman.

CLAY—Don't leave me. Don't make me beg you, Ferne.

FERNE—You don't even want me.

CLAY—[He passes his hand over his eyes. He looks old and tired suddenly] If you leave me—you'll destroy me.

FERNE—I don't believe that. Neither do you.

CLAY—It's true. When I married you, I thought this must be the last time—this must see me through to the end.

FERNE—Why with me?

CLAY—She, I thought, will never leave me.

FERNE—What made you so sure?

CLAY—[Simply] Something in your eyes.

FERNE—[Affected, but struggling against it] It was true once. It is true no longer. [She comes down into the room. He follows her, aware of having gained an inch—and pursuing it shrewdly.]

CLAY—When the idea first struck me—of asking you to marry me—I thought it was absurd, grotesque. It was a kind of rebellion in a way, against a society I despised, standards I didn't accept. My father was a tyrannical man, a hypocrite, hiding behind a façade of religion. But I knew what he really was! Every time a relative died he endowed a stained-glass window. He sought absolution through stained-glass windows. He used to force me to sit through these ceremonies. I can see him still with his pious expression. But I knew him. [A moment] The moment I thought of marrying you—that moment I was saying to myself: I wish he were alive, my father, so I could tell him, so I could watch his face—while I tell him.

FERNE—[MIGUEL'S phrase comes back into her mind. She whispers involuntarily] "The love that masquerades revenge!" [Turns on him—out loud] Why were you so sure of me? Was it that you thought: Surely I can hold a Dunnigan. A Dunnigan will never leave me—

CLAY—It was something I saw in your eyes. I know I've been arrogant. I know I've been ruthless. I've followed my nature. About that I can do nothing. But I depend on you to see me through.

FERNE—[Bitterly] And what will see me through?

CLAY—[With a flash of his customary sardonic humor] Your endurance!

FERNE—You overestimate my endurance.

CLAY—[Tries another tack] It won't be for long in any case.

FERNE—What do you mean?

CLAY—Andrews warned me several years ago. A heart-murmur, he said. I was enchanted with the phrase. A murmur. Sounds like a berceuse. Should be set to music, don't you think? By whom? Debussy, if he were alive. Or Duke Ellington? "The Heart Murmurs Blues." What do you think?

FERNE—What does Dr. Andrews tell you to do?

CLAY—What he tells everybody. No undue excitement. No undue strain.

FERNE—But you work yourself to death.

CLAY—And I shall continue—with that objective. Oh, Ferne, be practical. You will survive me. You will be able to indulge your caprices. [Reaches for her hand] All my ex-wives do.

FERNE—[Pulling her hand away—revolted] Even this—you cheapen! Even the dignity of death.

CLAY—I refuse to sentimentalize over death either—even my own. It's so common. [She turns away—her back is to him] Ferne, Ferne, you remember your promise? [Quoting jocularly] "In sickness and in health"—I hear that clerical nasal singsong still—"till death do us part." Those were your words. You are a believer, aren't you? [He looks at her standing rigid, taut] You're much too tense. Remember that nothing is very important. It will make life easier for you. Ferne, come on the plane with me. I'll ditch one of those engineers. Tell the truth, Ferne. Don't you prefer me arrogant? Give me the slightest encouragement and in ten minutes I'll be biting your head off. [Pause. He decides he has done enough for now. He starts upstairs—stops on stairs for a parting shot] In any case I'll never give you a divorce—not for my sake, but for yours.

FERNE—[Without moving] Always thinking of others, aren't you, Clay?

CLAY—[At balustrade, by the statue] No, I'm always thinking of myself, which is the most effective way of thinking of others. Do you know why I won't give you a divorce? Because no matter how you wander, you'll come back to me. And I'll be waiting. I have my own fidelity. I'll be waiting. I know you're not going out into a vacuum. You're far too desirable for that. There'll be another man. Miguel? All right. Try Miguel. Something tells me you won't like it—not for long. And I'll be waiting. [Leans forward and wafts the words to her in an impassioned whisper] I love you, Ferne. [He decides to rest his case on that. He goes upstairs. FERNE, is left alone. She is at sea again. She feels at once captured and rebellious. She is seething with indecision. She walks around the room, finds herself standing before the Vermeer—looking at it. MIGUEL, comes in from stairs.]

MIGUEL—Your husband sends me down. If ever you have a chance, he say to me, this is your moment. Never before has lover embarked for declaration under greater handicap, but you see I am dauntless. I match my uncertainty against his complacence.

FERNE—[Very quietly] He was anything but complacent just now. When I told him I was leaving him, it was odd, he seemed frightened. He was abject, frightened. I never saw him that way before.

MIGUEL—At bottom this man is tortured.

FERNE—Why must he torture other people?

MIGUEL—Because it is impossible to suffer in a vacuum—The trouble in the world is caused not by happy people but by frustrate people. There are, unfortunate, very few happy people.

FERNE—What do you suggest we do—psychoanalyze the world?

MIGUEL—It would be cheaper than destroying it.

FERNE—Perhaps we economize on the wrong things.

MIGUEL—Nevertheless, this Freud, I think, is closer to the truth, much, than this Karl Marx.

FERNE—Unhappiness is a vicious circle, isn't it, Miguel? It grows and grows. It mounts and mounts. It covers the world.

MIGUEL—The serpent in the garden of Eden. He is coiled around us. We have to throw off, some way. Evil is mobilized. Goodness not. Goodness is like you—mixed-up, not resolute. [A moment. They look at each other. He comes toward her. He wants to tell her he loves her and is surprised to find himself shy.] Yesterday, Ferne, I saw chance to play God. Everybody likes to play God a little bit. But that is dangerous. The other God has seized me. The blind God. Serves me right. [He smiles at her.]

FERNE—[Terrified, at this moment, of a love declaration] I must tell you, Miguel—

MIGUEL—[He senses it] I know. To be made love to is the last thing you want. I have no intention. That I will postpone. But meantime the moment has come for you to decide.

FERNE—I thought I had. But to make a decision is one thing—to put it into practice another. [Sits in armchair.]

MIGUEL—It takes time to live up to one's heroic decisions. They are so far ahead of us. Nevertheless—snap-cut the string. Use me for scissor.

FERNE—Snap-cut?

MIGUEL—Run-elope with me.

FERNE—Where to?

MIGUEL—[Comes close to her] To the University in Oak Lawn, Illinois, where I do mural.

FERNE—[Amused] Odd invitation!

MIGUEL—Why so?

FERNE—It's where I live.

MIGUEL—What of?

FERNE—And stay in the Rainier mansion, I suppose!

MIGUEL—Why no? 

FERNE—I suppose this is the first invitation on record for a man to run-elope you right back home.

MIGUEL—Ah, but then I will take you to my home—to Cuernevaca. There the good life will begin for you. In the peace and glow and beauty of my land—there you will find him—your true how-you-call identity and how you know maybe it turns out to be mine? [They both laugh.]

FERNE—But Miguel—

MIGUEL—Yes, beloved?

FERNE—[She feels very warm toward him, and happy that he offers her a proposal which she can reject without hurting him.] What if—when we reach that heaven—we find that, in the interval, your wife has tired of her Cigale and is sitting there waiting for you—what then?

MIGUEL—I explain her proper.

FERNE—What if she doesn't like it?

MIGUEL—If you like, I send her away.

FERNE—I couldn't possibly let you do that, Miguel. After all, she is your wife and I consider she has certain rudimentary rights.

MIGUEL—You find her useful—she knows my ways—does many things—Oh, you will like her.

FERNE—I may appreciate her. But I hope I don't like her. That would fill me with self-reproach.

MIGUEL—[Flatly] You have wrong concept.

FERNE—I know I have. This awful Anglo-Saxon prudishness.

MIGUEL—I get you rid of.

FERNE—I wonder.

MIGUEL—All my friends like my wife. You also. She has this great quality. She don't speak!

FERNE—Never?

MIGUEL—Never. Only in a crisis. Very genial. Hard worker.

FERNE—You are imprudent, Miguel, to risk such perfect—companionship.

MIGUEL—I don't risk. She don't notice.

FERNE—Can you expect me to be quite so—unobtrusive?

MIGUEL—Don't worry. You will adapt.

FERNE—[Almost wishing she could slough off her problem so easily] We're terribly different, aren't we? I hadn't quite realized till just this minute how different we are.

MIGUEL—[Kneeling at right of her chair] I beg—implore you, do not succumb so rapid to this mania to be uniform. In the physical world—in the spiritual world—and in love—it is the differences that yield the delight.

FERNE—Differences are fine, Miguel, but if two people are to live with each other—

MIGUEL—Yes?

FERNE—They have to be, the differences, I mean, within the same framework at least. Oh, dear, I'm so old-fashioned.

MIGUEL—I modernize.

FERNE—It appears though, Miguel, that what you want precisely is a mistress, not a wife.

MIGUEL—Is for you. Gives you freedom till you find out. If, with us, turns out to be, how you say—without dice—you can abandon.

FERNE—I'm not looking for something to abandon. I'm looking for something to stick to. Does that terrify you? I believe it does. Oh, Miguel, I wish I were like you. Then everything would be so easy.

MIGUEL—The fact is—you do not love me, or you do not analyze so heavy. [ROBERT enters from terrace—holding a clothes brush. MIGUEL rises.]

ROBERT—Oh, Mrs. Rainier—Mr. Rainier has asked me to have your things packed. I've instructed the maid to pack some warm things. Mr. Rainier says it's cold in the Argentine at this time of year. [ROBERT goes upstairs.]

MIGUEL—Also, the fact is, something in you clings to your husband. Something in you needs him. You hold on to him, as much as he to you. When you become really strong, you will go away easy. That moment is not yet. [He decides there is nothing more to be done. He goes toward door. At the door he stops] Even if you have no one to got to—it is wrong that you stay with him—but as you have me to got to—it is positive sin! [He smiles at her, and goes out. There is a moment. FERNE considers, and then goes to the phone.]

FERNE—El hotel, por favor. I want to speak to Mr. Baird, please—Mr. Jim Baird. [JIM enters from hall, excited, happy.]

JIM—Ferne!

FERNE—[Hangs up] Oh, Jim, I was just calling you.

JIM—Congratulations, Ferne! I can't tell you how happy I am you've done this. Now don't worry about anything. I can let you have some money—not much but enough to get you to New York. Somehow, your doing this revives my hope about everything—including myself. I could hug you, Ferne, I probably will! [As he sees her expression] What's the matter? You look so troubled.

FERNE—I don't mind telling you, Jim, I'm just hanging on to my resolution by the skin of my teeth. He's making it awfully tough for me.

JIM—What did you think he'd be, a pushover?

FERNE—He says he'll never let me go, never give me a divorce.

JIM—Ferne, get on to yourself. At a time when we're all living on a narrow shelf, you're with a man who's trying to push everyone off that shelf. This energy of evil spans the generations. I might as well tell you now—your husband was even involved in your father's disgrace.

FERNE—I don't believe that.

JIM—I know more about it than you do. I saw your father in prison the day before he killed himself.

FERNE—You saw him! Jim! You never told me.

JIM—I'm telling you now.

FERNE—You saw him!

JIM—He showed me your picture—we talked about you. He had two fierce emotions, your father. One was heartbreak at having brought disgrace on you. The other was bitter anger—

FERNE—At whom?

JIM—At the Rainiers. Clay and his father used him as a political henchman as long as he could bring in the votes, and then abandoned him. I remember thinking: Dunnigan's bitterness, his desire for revenge, are keeping him alive. But, his agony over what he had done to you preyed on him to the point of desperation. I remember thinking when I left him—which will win?

FERNE—I won, didn't I, Jim?

JIM—I had an odd feeling when I left him—that my visit had depressed him—brought you and his happy past before him more vividly. The next day I read that he'd killed himself. And six months later I read that you'd married Clay Rainier. Don't tell me this is all news to you?

FERNE—Do you think if I had known I'd have married Clay?

JIM—Do you mean to say you never discussed this with your husband?

FERNE—No. I never did.

JIM—Why not?

FERNE—[Facing it] Because I was afraid! There was an unspoken pact between Clay and me that neither of us should ever mention my father. I took advantage of that.

JIM—How wonderfully that must have worked out for him.

FERNE—For me, too—I see it now—instead of having it out in the open—instead of facing it—I'm guilty, Jim. Just as guilty as if I had known.

JIM—Yes, you are.

FERNE—It was never mentioned between us until last night when Clay brought it out and struck me with it—the concealed weapon. I was worse than cowardly—I was stupid. I'm grateful to you. Do you know how I feel right now, Jim? I feel the lights have been turned on after a nightmare—it's daylight—there are no ghosts—I'm not ashamed any more. I'm not afraid any more. I've nothing to hide any more. Thank you, Jim.

JIM—Oh, Ferne, I wish you could see yourself. Your eyes. They're alive again. You look wonderful! You're all right now. I feel I can leave you now. If you need me—the Embassy at Mexico City will reach me.

FERNE—Thank you for everything. I can't really thank you. [A moment.]

JIM—Well—good-bye, Ferne.

FERNE—I won't say "good-bye" to you, Jim.

JIM—[Manages a smile] Good luck. [He reaches out his hand. She takes it.]

FERNE—You know what I wish for you. You know what—

JIM—[All choked up. Suddenly] Ferne—

FERNE—[Also choked up] Yes, Jim—dearest Jim.

JIM—Will you—would you mind very much—kissing me goodbye? [She realizes with a great surge that she has wanted him to ask her this. They are in each other's arms. They are clinging desperately to each other as if this moment were all they had in the world.]

JIM—[Whispers] Ferne. Ferne. [Their embrace slackens. She draws away from him. They stare at each other incredulously. JIM speaks with a new authority] You're coming with me. Now run upstairs and pack your bag. We're going.

FERNE—No, Jim.

JIM—Go on, do what I say.

FERNE—Jim, wait a minute, please. First, I have to straighten myself out. I have to stand on my own feet. I have to tell Clay. Then—

JIM—Then?

FERNE—I'm going to New York—get a job.

JIM—All right, I respect that. You go to New York—but I'll take you as far as Mexico City. I've got to get you out of this house. The bus leaves the square in half an hour.

FERNE—All right. I'll meet you in the square in half an hour. [She starts to go upstairs.]

JIM—[Seizes her hand and stops her] Oh, no. I won't leave you here with him. You're leaving his house with me.

FERNE—Am I, Jim? All right, Jim.

JIM—Have you ever traveled on a Mexican bus?

FERNE—[Laughing] No, I haven't!

JIM—It's an experience, I can tell you. A profound experience, zoological and anthropological, ducks, geese, pigs, Indians, pregnant women, non-pregnant women, with luck an occasional childbirth—

FERNE—And you and me!

JIM—And you and me! [They embrace happily. ZELDA comes in, followed by MIGUEL. ZELDA looks at them—jumps to an advance conclusion.]

ZELDA—Oh, my God, no!

MIGUEL—There must be some mistake. This is my proposition. What becomes of all my propaganda? I fight to release you. But not for him—for myself.

FERNE—Don't jump to conclusions, Miguel. [MIGUEL bursts out laughing.]

ZELDA—[Acridly] He drowns his disappointment in laughter!

MIGUEL—[Through his laughter] I am disappointed grievous—[Points upstairs]—but the joke on him is so hearty—grand it plows up simultaneous my personal disappointment. [ZELDA starts out.]

FERNE—Zelda—darling—Zelda.

ZELDA—[Stopping] Yes, I'm jealous. But not about Jim, he'd drive me crazy. I'm jealous because you've found somebody and I haven't.

FERNE—You will, Zelda.

ZELDA—I doubt it.

FERNE—You will, if—

ZELDA—[Hard, bitter] I will, if what?

FERNE—[Very clear] If left to yourself!

ZELDA—Too late for that now.

FERNE—Why?

ZELDA—[Sorry for herself] Now that you're going—I can't—ever!

FERNE—He doesn't need you. He doesn't need me. He doesn't need anybody. And what if he does? Zelda, listen. For the first time in my life I feel I can choose. I can't tell you what a marvelous feeling it is. It's not Jim alone. I don't know about Jim yet. I'm not sure. What I am sure of is that I'm not going to be afraid any more. It's the difference between being alive and dead. Don't deny it to yourself, Zelda. Don't be afraid of being sorry afterwards. Don't be afraid of hurting even. Don't be afraid!

ZELDA—Ferne, leave me alone!

JIM—[Takes charge] Ferne, go upstairs and pack. I'll talk to Zelda.

FERNE—All right. [FERNE goes upstairs.]

JIM—Zelda, you're making a martyr of yourself. That's your affair. But just know this, Ferne's not going with me. She's going to New York. She's made her own decision—it's got nothing to do with me. And let me tell you something else—as long as you stay with your father you'll never have a man. You'll have men, but never a man. I was one of them—and I know.

ZELDA—[Nerveless, unable to make up her mind] The thing is—I don't trust myself once I see him.

JIM—Then go without seeing him.

ZELDA—That would be cowardly.

MIGUEL—[Intervenes] But that's one way of learning courage—through cowardice. Listen, Zelda—[He goes to her, points to door] Outside that door is the world. A world of beauty, of misery, of pain, of joy, what you like. In your mind, too, is a door, behind which you lock yourself. But—that door is not locked, neither is the door in your mind. Walk through them both.

ZELDA—[Hovering on the brink] I want to go—it's that—

MIGUEL—[Slowly walks her to door] Go down to the schoolhouse. Your father will go away. That will give you time. Time to think. Meanwhile, look at my murals. They will give you courage—I will tell your father you are gone.

ZELDA—Will you?

MIGUEL—With a certain quiet enthusiasm—[Sound of door closing upstairs. CLAY'S voice is heard.]

CLAY—Everything packed, Robert?

ROBERT—Yes, sir—everything is ready, Mr. Rainier.

MIGUEL—Jim, take her to the car.

JIM—[He is with ZELDA, at the door] Right!

ZELDA—[To MIGUEL] You'll be here, won't you?

MIGUEL—I'll come for you when he is gone.

ZELDA—Thank you, Miguel. [She kisses him impulsively, in gratitude, and runs out. CLAY is heard descending stairs.]

JIM—[As he goes with ZELDA, to MIGUEL] Stall until I get back.

MIGUEL—Leave it to me. [JIM is gone. MIGUEL shuts the door after them and leans against it. It was such a narrow squeak he feels exhausted. But when he's recovered a bit he thinks of CLAY and smiles. As CLAY comes downstairs he effaces his smile and moves away from the door. CLAY is followed by ROBERT, carrying CLAY'S bags. ROBERT goes out into the hall with the bags.]

CLAY—Thank you, Robert. And Robert, after you put that in the car, tell Mrs. Rainier and Miss Zelda to hurry. We haven't much time. They're a half hour late already.

ROBERT—Yes, sir. [He goes out.]

CLAY—[In a mellow mood—looking out the terrace doors] Miguel, marvelous flying weather! [He looks upstairs a moment] What is it, Miguel, that women do in that interminable interval between the moment when they are ready and the moment when they actually appear? What do they do?

MIGUEL—They make up for lost time.

CLAY—I gather, Miguel, you didn't make much headway with Ferne.

MIGUEL—No headway! I have lost out.

CLAY—The temptation to crow over you is practically irresistible. If I were a bird, I'd preen.

MIGUEL—Have a good time. Enjoy yourself hearty.

CLAY—You don't understand women, Miguel.

MIGUEL—Who does?

CLAY—You're sentimental about them as many artists are. The firm hand, Miguel.

MIGUEL—[Permitting him to revel] Appears is the only method.

CLAY—Believe me. Here you see one American who hasn't succumbed to the sickening matriarchy that obtains in the U.S.A.

MIGUEL—One-man revolution!

CLAY—Just about!

MIGUEL—You are a remarkable man, Señor Rainier.

CLAY—If you don't dominate them, they will dominate you.

MIGUEL—What about an equal relationship?

CLAY—There you are naive! It doesn't exist.

MIGUEL—By God, Señor Rainier, you have right.

CLAY—[Imitating genially] By God, Señor Riachi, I have! [JIM comes back. To JIM] Ah, the Great Incorruptible! And yet you seem unable to keep away from my house. The parlor has an irresistible attraction for the pink.

JIM—I can promise you this is my last visit.

CLAY—Thank you, Mr. Baird. You've been using your personal relationship with me and my family to undermine me. Hardly gentlemanly. [Refilling cigar case from humidor on mantel.]

JIM—I'm not a gentleman. I'm an ex-newspaper man. I told you yesterday I had my own dilemma. Well, I've decided. Tomorrow those farmers you tried to bribe will present their case in Mexico City. I'll be there with them.

CLAY—You're interfering in the internal affairs of this country.

JIM—From your point of view it's interference. From mine it's cooperation.

CLAY—I've wired the State Department about you.

JIM—I think they'll back me up.

CLAY—I think they'll fire you.

JIM—I'll be interested to see. There's a new spirit coming alive, even in our State Department. It's slowly dawning on us that it's individuals who do the dirty work, and it's individuals who must bear the responsibility. Well, in this little area at least, I'm going to pin it on you.

CLAY—Do you really think you can fight me, Mr. Baird?

JIM—I think I can beat you. You're like a king who's been deposed but doesn't know it yet.

CLAY—And who will succeed me? Not you, Mr. Baird, not you.

MIGUEL—[Cutting in] And what if he did beat you, honored patron? Are you so frightened of losing your power?

CLAY—I, Miguel, frightened! [With a sudden smile—decides to come clean] Of course I am! Suppose someone tried to take away your talent. Without it you'd be nobody. Well, my talent is power. Without it, I'm nobody.

MIGUEL—And what is it to be nobody? A human being, after all, with life, with air, with water, with the faculty to imagine. Look at this poor creature—man. He knows he is insignificant, yet can conceive to be noble. He knows that he is mortal, yet can dream into the infinite. He knows that he is evil, yet can hope to be good. He is loveless and alone—yet feels the need of love and the need of his kind. Is this what it is to be nobody?

CLAY—Those things might console you. But they're not good enough for me. Without power, I'm—[During these last speeches FERNE has come down, suitcase in hand, and stands on the stairs, listening. She cuts in.]

FERNE—Without power you might be human, without it you might be loved. I'm not going with you, Clay. I'm going to Mexico City with Jim, and then—

CLAY—[Jumping to conclusions] You and Baird? Well, it's something of a relief to reach an age when you're beyond surprise.

JIM—Come on, Ferne. [JIM picks up FERNE'S suitcase—They start out.]

CLAY—The Dunnigans together!

FERNE—[Turns on him] That's the last time you'll ever fling that taunt at me!

CLAY—Worthy of each other!

JIM—Thank you very much!

FERNE—It's the last time. My father died in jail. All right. I've been ashamed of it all my grown-up life. I'm not any longer. If all the truth were known, about him as against you he might not stack up so badly. Given his chances in life and given yours who has done more harm, who has hurt more people? It's the last time, Clay.

CLAY—You're not going, Ferne.

FERNE—You can't stop me!

CLAY—You don't know me. You don't know me as an enemy. I'll throw everything over. I'll tumble everything down. I'll destroy everything—including myself. Do you think it's beyond me? Answer me. Do you think it's beyond me?

FERNE—Nothing is beyond you.

CLAY—This will be my legacy to you. Your love will be stillborn. I shall be present at your intimacies. Go ahead. Pool your weaknesses. See what comes of it. The world is sick and you are part of the sickness of the world. In three months you'll come crawling back to me, crying for my strength. [He turns and goes to stairs, calls—for the one human being in the world he loves and knows he can count on] Zelda! Zelda! [His voice rises. No answer. He turns to the others, speaks very quietly] Where's Zelda?

MIGUEL—She has gone.

CLAY—Gone? Where?

MIGUEL—She did not say. She asked me to tell you.

CLAY—[As if he couldn't believe his ears] What's that, Miguel?

MIGUEL—She has gone.

CLAY—[He doesn't believe it. Without a word he runs upstairs to look for himself. We hear his voice calling] Zelda! Zelda! [FERNE and JIM draw together instinctively.]

FERNE—[Involuntarily] I can't help it—I feel sorry for him.

MIGUEL—I know. You must guard against that, too. [CLAY comes downstairs. Stands for a moment by balustrade. He is in a berserk rage.]

CLAY—[Shouts] Robert! Robert! [ROBERT comes in—stands in doorway.]

ROBERT—Yes, sir?

CLAY—Take Miss Zelda's things out of this house. Distribute them in the village.

ROBERT—[Amazed and shaken] Yes, sir. [He goes out. CLAY comes down into the room—confronts FERNE and JIM.]

CLAY—[To FERNE] You once told me my intuition was infallible. But you overestimated me. I am capable of error. I misinterpreted—that look in your eye. [To JIM] Easy to snipe at power, Baird, when you haven't the responsibility of it. All right, I give it to you. I throw it in your lap. Achieve Utopia, let me see if you can make a success of it. If you do, it will be historic because it will be for the first time. You see, the unpleasant fact is, Mr. Baird, you have the dreams, I have the know-how. I'll be watching, and I'll be waiting. [Starts to door, walks out without looking at FERNE. As he goes] Ferne, when the Brave New World gets tiresome, tell Robert to give you my forwarding address. [He goes out. A pause.]

MIGUEL—[Finally, to JIM] This know-how of his, without your dream, will blow the roof off the world!

FERNE—[Takes a deep breath] Isn't it extraordinary? [With a long look around the room] I no longer belong in this house. I can go where I want. I can do what I wish. Isn't it extraordinary?

MIGUEL—Now you learn to walk. Soon you will stride.

FERNE—Will I, Miguel? I believe I will. Thank you, Miguel.

MIGUEL—Good-bye, beloved. You have what so few people get in life.

FERNE—I know, Miguel—the second chance. [She kisses him.]

MIGUEL—Today everybody kisses me, and everybody leaves me!

JIM—Come on, Ferne. [He takes FERNE'S arm and starts out with her] Good-bye, Miguel.

MIGUEL—[Raises his arm in benediction as they go out] Farewell—and hail!

Curtain

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