Read Online The Tragedy of Mister Morn by Vladimir Nabokov, Thomas Karshan, Anastasia Tolstoy - Free Book Online
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as pale
as a lily of the valley … Ah—can it really
be Ganus? We once were well acquainted. It
is a secret, is it not, that you have returned
to us? When last night you and I … how did
I know? Well, by the brand, by the blue number—
here—above your wrist: you wrung your hands
and the number was revealed. I noticed it,
and, as I recall, I said that in Desdemona …
TREMENS:
Here, have some wine, biscuits. Soon Ella
will be back … You see, I live quietly,
but happily. Pour some for me. By the way,
there’s been a disagreement here: these
gentlemen here want to decide which
of them shall pay for a dinner … in honour
of some fashionable dancer. If you could
just …
DANDILIO:
Of course! I’ll pay with pleasure!
TREMENS:
No, no,
not that … clasp the handkerchief and let out
two ends—one with a knot.
MORN:
Which can’t be seen,
of course. Really, he’s a child—one must explain
everything! Do you recall, you carefree dandelion,
how one night I planted you atop a street lamp:
the light shone through your grey tufts,
and you were trying to pull a shaggy top hat
over the moon and smacked your lips so happily …
DANDILIO:
And after that, the top hat smelled of milk.
You prankster, I forgive you!
GANUS:
Hurry … We asked you …
This must be resolved …
DANDILIO:
Come, come, my friend—
patience … Here is my handkerchief. Not
a handkerchief but a multicoloured flag.
Forgive me. I’ll turn my back to you … Ready!
TREMENS:
He who pulls out the knot shall pay. Ganus,
pull.
GANUS:
No knot!
MORN:
You are lucky, as always …
GANUS:
I can’t … what have I done! I shouldn’t have …
TREMENS:
He clutches his head, mutters—but it’s not you—
he’s the one who’s lost.
DANDILIO:
Forgive me, what’s this …
I have made a mistake … There is no knot,
I didn’t tie one, look—what a miracle!
EDMIN:
Fate, fate, fate decided thus! Listen
to fate. That’s the outcome! I beseech
you—beseech you—to be reconciled!
All is well!
DANDILIO [ taking snuff ]:
And I shall pay for the dinner …
TREMENS:
The art connoisseur looks worried … Enough
jesting with fate: give me that handkerchief!
DANDILIO:
What do you mean—give it to you? I need it—
I sneeze,—it’s covered in tobacco, it’s damp;
and what is more—I have a cold.
TREMENS:
We’ll make it
simpler, then! Here, with cards …
GANUS [ mumbling ]:
I can’t.
TREMENS:
Quick, which suit?
MORN:
Well, I love the colour
red—life, and roses, and sunrises …
TREMENS:
Now
I shall show the card! Ganus, stop!
What a fool he is—
he’s gone and fainted!
DANDILIO:
Hold him—oh, he’s heavy! Hold him, Tremens,—
my bones are made of glass. Ah, there—
he’s come to.
GANUS:
God, forgive me.
DANDILIO:
Let’s go, let’s go …
lie down.
[ He leads GANUS to the bedroom .]
MORN:
He could not bear the repetition
of his good fortune. So. The eight of clubs.
Very good.
[ to EDMIN ]
You’ve grown pale, friend? Why?
To set in contrast still more sharply
the black silhouette of my fate? Sometimes
despair is the finest of all artists … I am
ready. Where is the pistol?
TREMENS:
Not here, though,
please. I don’t like mess in my house.
MORN:
Yes,
you are right. Sleep soundly, worthy Tremens.
My house is taller. The shot will resound
more sonorously in it, and tomorrow
will come a dawn in which I have no part.
Let’s go, Edmin. I shall spend the night
at Caesar’s.
[ MORN and EDMIN exit, the former supporting the latter .]
TREMENS [ alone ]:
Thank you … My chill has been
replaced by a flowing warmth … How pleasing is
that grin anticipating death and the mortal
glimmer in his eyes! He keeps his spirits up,
he plays … I have no interest in the actor
himself, yet—strange—it still seems to me
that this is not the first time I have heard
his voice: as when one remembers the tune
but not the words; perhaps
as a lily of the valley … Ah—can it really
be Ganus? We once were well acquainted. It
is a secret, is it not, that you have returned
to us? When last night you and I … how did
I know? Well, by the brand, by the blue number—
here—above your wrist: you wrung your hands
and the number was revealed. I noticed it,
and, as I recall, I said that in Desdemona …
TREMENS:
Here, have some wine, biscuits. Soon Ella
will be back … You see, I live quietly,
but happily. Pour some for me. By the way,
there’s been a disagreement here: these
gentlemen here want to decide which
of them shall pay for a dinner … in honour
of some fashionable dancer. If you could
just …
DANDILIO:
Of course! I’ll pay with pleasure!
TREMENS:
No, no,
not that … clasp the handkerchief and let out
two ends—one with a knot.
MORN:
Which can’t be seen,
of course. Really, he’s a child—one must explain
everything! Do you recall, you carefree dandelion,
how one night I planted you atop a street lamp:
the light shone through your grey tufts,
and you were trying to pull a shaggy top hat
over the moon and smacked your lips so happily …
DANDILIO:
And after that, the top hat smelled of milk.
You prankster, I forgive you!
GANUS:
Hurry … We asked you …
This must be resolved …
DANDILIO:
Come, come, my friend—
patience … Here is my handkerchief. Not
a handkerchief but a multicoloured flag.
Forgive me. I’ll turn my back to you … Ready!
TREMENS:
He who pulls out the knot shall pay. Ganus,
pull.
GANUS:
No knot!
MORN:
You are lucky, as always …
GANUS:
I can’t … what have I done! I shouldn’t have …
TREMENS:
He clutches his head, mutters—but it’s not you—
he’s the one who’s lost.
DANDILIO:
Forgive me, what’s this …
I have made a mistake … There is no knot,
I didn’t tie one, look—what a miracle!
EDMIN:
Fate, fate, fate decided thus! Listen
to fate. That’s the outcome! I beseech
you—beseech you—to be reconciled!
All is well!
DANDILIO [ taking snuff ]:
And I shall pay for the dinner …
TREMENS:
The art connoisseur looks worried … Enough
jesting with fate: give me that handkerchief!
DANDILIO:
What do you mean—give it to you? I need it—
I sneeze,—it’s covered in tobacco, it’s damp;
and what is more—I have a cold.
TREMENS:
We’ll make it
simpler, then! Here, with cards …
GANUS [ mumbling ]:
I can’t.
TREMENS:
Quick, which suit?
MORN:
Well, I love the colour
red—life, and roses, and sunrises …
TREMENS:
Now
I shall show the card! Ganus, stop!
What a fool he is—
he’s gone and fainted!
DANDILIO:
Hold him—oh, he’s heavy! Hold him, Tremens,—
my bones are made of glass. Ah, there—
he’s come to.
GANUS:
God, forgive me.
DANDILIO:
Let’s go, let’s go …
lie down.
[ He leads GANUS to the bedroom .]
MORN:
He could not bear the repetition
of his good fortune. So. The eight of clubs.
Very good.
[ to EDMIN ]
You’ve grown pale, friend? Why?
To set in contrast still more sharply
the black silhouette of my fate? Sometimes
despair is the finest of all artists … I am
ready. Where is the pistol?
TREMENS:
Not here, though,
please. I don’t like mess in my house.
MORN:
Yes,
you are right. Sleep soundly, worthy Tremens.
My house is taller. The shot will resound
more sonorously in it, and tomorrow
will come a dawn in which I have no part.
Let’s go, Edmin. I shall spend the night
at Caesar’s.
[ MORN and EDMIN exit, the former supporting the latter .]
TREMENS [ alone ]:
Thank you … My chill has been
replaced by a flowing warmth … How pleasing is
that grin anticipating death and the mortal
glimmer in his eyes! He keeps his spirits up,
he plays … I have no interest in the actor
himself, yet—strange—it still seems to me
that this is not the first time I have heard
his voice: as when one remembers the tune
but not the words; perhaps
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