by Jean Cocteau
EURYDICE. Heurtebise, you’re a magician!
HEURTEBISE. A magician?
EURYDICE. Nobody but a magician could remain suspended in mid-air while someone slides a chair from under his feet.
HEURTEBISE. Who’s suspended in mid-air?
EURYDICE. Don’t deny it, I saw you. You were standing on air —three feet off the ground, with nothing underneath to hold you up.
HEURTEBISE. Sometimes you amaze me.
EURYDICE. For a full minute you were dangling between heaven and earth.
HEURTEBISE. Impossible.
EURYDICE. Of course it was impossible, that’s why I want an explanation.
HEURTEBISE. You claim I was standing there with nothing to hold me up, halfway between the ceiling and the floor?
EURYDICE. Heurtebise, I saw you — with my own eyes. Even if I do live with a talking horse, I still think something’s wrong when a friend starts to float in the air in front of me. Stay where you are! Until I know what happened, even the light on your back gives me the creeps. All right, Heurtebise, explain yourself.
HEURTEBISE. But I haven’t done anything to explain. Either I’m dreaming or you were dreaming.
EURYDICE. In dreams I’ve done exactly the same thing, I admit it. But we weren’t asleep, either of us.
HEURTEBISE. It must have been an optical illusion — the light reflected from the glass on my back to the window. Objects sometimes fool us that way. Once at a fair I saw a naked woman walking on the ceiling.
EURYDICE. This was no trick contrived by a magician. It was beautiful and at the same time it was chilling. In one second I saw you as spine-chilling as an accident and as lovely as a rainbow. You were the shriek of a man falling out the window and the silence of the stars. And now I’m afraid of you — and I’m honest enough to admit it. If you don’t want to talk, don’t; but things will never be the same between us. I thought you were simple, like me. But no, you’re complicated. I thought we belonged to the same race of people. But no, you’re like the horse.
HEURTEBISE. Eurydice, this hurts me. It’s as if you were talking in your sleep.
EURYDICE. Now you sound like Orpheus. Stay in character. Don’t you try to drive me out of my mind.
HEURTEBISE. Eurydice, I swear …
EURYDICE. It’s no use, Heurtebise. I’ve lost faith in you.
HEURTEBISE. What can we do about it?
EURYDICE. Wait a minute.
She walks to the bookshelf, climbs on a chair, takes a book, opens it, removes a letter, and puts the book back in place.
Hand me the envelope you got from Aglaonice.
He hands it to her.
Thank you.
She puts the letter in the envelope and licks the flap. Oh dear!
HEURTEBISE. Did you cut your tongue?
EURYDICE. No, but the glue has a funny taste. Here’s the envelope. Take it to Aglaonice right away.
HEURTEBISE. But I haven’t fixed the window.
EURYDICE. The window can wait.
HEURTEBISE. You want to get rid of me, don’t you?
EURYDICE. I need to be alone.
HEURTEBISE. You’re being nasty.
EURYDICE. I don’t like tradesmen with light fingers — or light feet.
HEURTEBISE. And now you’re making bad puns.
EURYDICE. That was not a pun.
HEURTEBISE, picking up his bag. You’ll be sorry you hurt me.
Silence.
Are you sending me away?
EURYDICE. I hate mysteries. I’ve decided to assert myself.
HEURTEBISE. Good-by, Madame. I trust at least that my obedience pleases you.
EURYDICE. Good by.
They cross paths on stage. Eurydice moves toward her room, Heurtebise opens the door and walks out, leaving the door open. As he steps into the garden we catch the rays of sunshine reflected off his back. Eurydice suddenly stops, changes countenance. She reels, clasps a hand to her heart, and shouts.
Heurtebise! Heurtebise! Don’t go yet!
HEURTEBISE, coming back. What’s wrong?
EURYDICE. Help …
HEURTEBISE. You’re shivering. Your face is green.
EURYDICE. I can’t move. My heart’s skipping a beat. My stomach burns.
HEURTEBISE. The envelope!
EURYDICE. What about the envelope?
HEURTEBISE, shouting. The envelope from Aglaonice. You licked it. You said it had a strange taste.
EURYDICE. The witch! Hurry, find Orpheus for me. I’m going to die. I want to see Orpheus once more. Orpheus! Orpheus!
HEURTEBISE. But I can’t leave you alone. There must be some antidote.
EURYDICE. I know this posion. The Bacchantes brew it. Nothing can save me. Run quick, bring back Orpheus. I want to see him again and ask him to forgive me. I love him, Heurtebise. Hurry or it will be too late. Please, Heurtebise! You’re good, you’re kind. Oh, they’re driving needles between my ribs! Quick, run, fly! Take the short cut. If he’s on his way back you’ll meet him on the road. I’ll be in my room, waiting. Help me.
Heurtebise helps her to the door of her room.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
At the very moment that Heurtebise reaches the outside door, Eurydice reappears.
Heurtebise, listen to me, if you can really do things… well … things like a little while ago … that let you sail through space… don’t be angry with me, I was upset, I was being stupid … I really do like you, Heurtebise … Try anything, but bring back Orpheus. Oh!
She goes back into her room.
HEURTEBISE. I’ll bring him back, I promise.
He leaves.
The stage remains empty for a moment. The lights change. Low syncopated drumbeats accompany the dialogue of the following scene. Death enters through the mirror, followed by her two assistants. She wears a formal gown and evening wrap. Her assistants are dressed in surgeon’s uniforms. We see only their eyes; the rest of their faces is covered with gauze. Rubber gloves. Each carries a large and expensive-looking black suitcase. Death walks in rapidly and stops abruptly in the center of the room.
DEATH. Get to work right away.
RAPHAEL. Where does Madame wish us to place the luggage?
DEATH. On the floor, anywhere. Azrael will tell you what to do. Azrael, my coat.
He takes off her wrap.
RAPHAEL. I’m so afraid of making a mistake.
DEATH. You can’t expect to learn as much as Azrael in two days, young man. Azrael has been with me for centuries. He was clumsy, too, in the beginning. My jacket, please.
Azrael takes a white surgeon’s jacket out of one of the bags and helps Death slip it on over her evening gown.
AZRAEL, to Raphael. Put the metal boxes on the table. No, not that way. First, the napkins. First cover the table with napkins.
DEATH, moving to the washstand. Azrael will tell you that I demand absolute cleanliness — like on a ship.
RAPHAEL. Yes, Madame. I hope Madame will forgive me, but I was looking at the horse.
DEATH. Do you like that horse?
RAPHAEL. Oh yes, Madame, very much.
DEATH. What a child! And you wish he were yours, don’t you. Very well, I’ll give him to you. Azrael, the alcohol.
To Raphael.
You’ll find a piece of sugar on the table.
RAPHAEL. Yes, Madame. I see it.
DEATH. Give it to the horse. If he refuses, I’ll give it to him myself. Azrael, my rubber gloves. Thank you.
She puts a glove on her right hand.
RAPHAEL. Madame, the horse won’t eat the sugar.
DEATH, takes the sugar from Raphael. Eat it, horse, I want you to eat it.
The horse takes the sugar, backs up in his stall, and disappears from view. A black curtain is drawn over the opening.
There!
To Raphael. Now he’s yours.
RAPHAEL. Madame is too generous!
DEATH, pulling on her left glove. A week ago you still thought I was a skeleton wrapped in a shrou
d, carrying a scythe. A kind of bogeyman with wrinkles and scars on my face.
RAPHAEL. Oh, Madame!…
During this dialogue, Azrael drapes a piece of cloth over the mirror.
DEATH. Oh yes, you did. They all do. The truth is, my dear boy, that if I were really the way people picture me, then they would recognize me when I come to them. And it is essential that I slip into their lives unnoticed.
She places a chair downstage center.
Azrael, try the switch.
AZRAEL. It works, Madame.
There is a rumbling sound of an electrical apparatus.
DEATH, taking a handkerchief out of the jacket pocket. Excellent! Now, Raphael, if you’ll tie this handkerchief over my eyes …
While Raphael is blindfolding her.
We’re on one-wave-seven and one-zone-seven-twelve. Set the control dial on four. If I call for more current turn it up to five, but no further. Tighter, please, and make a double knot. Thank you. Are you both in position?
Azarel and Raphael stand side by side behind the table, Their hands are in the instrument boxes on the table.
I shall begin.
Death moves to the chair. With slow, caressing motions she seems to be hypnotizing an invisible head.
RAPHAEL, low. Azrael…
AZRAEL. Sh-sh!
DEATH. Go on, talk. You are not disturbing me.
RAPHAEL. Azrael, where is Eurydice?
DEATH. I expected that. Always the same question, isn’t it, Azrael? Explain it to him.
AZRAEL. When Death wants to touch a living object she operates through a neutral element which changes its position in space. These machines enable her to touch things where she sees them. That eliminates mathematical calculations and saves us considerable time.
RAPHAEL. It’s like spearing fish in the water. If you aim straight at the fish, you’ll never hit it.
DEATH, laughing. If you like.
Seriously.
Azrael, prepare the spool.
AZRAEL. Yes, Madame … Does Madame know what has happened to Heurtebise?
DEATH. He’s bringing Orpheus back from town.
RAPHAEL. What if they come in before we finish?
DEATH. That’s up to Azrael. He controls the time gears. One minute to them is a whole hour for me.
AZRAEL. The needle’s moving past number five. Is Madame ready for the spool?
DEATH. Tie it appropriately and give me one end.
Azrael disappears into Eurydice’s room and then returns with the spool. Death counts the number of steps between her chair and the door to Eurydice’s room. At the doorway, she stops. Azrael hands her the spool which is shaped like a circular tape measure and wound with a white thread, one end of which is now anchored in Eurydice’s room.
AZRAEL. Raphael, the chronometer.
RAPHAEL. I forgot to bring it with me!
AZRAEL. Now we’re in a fix.
DEATH. Don’t get excited. There’s another way…
She whispers to Azrael.
AZRAEL, stepping down to the footlights. Ladies and gentlemen. Death has requested me to ask the audience if there isn’t someone in the theater who would kindly lend us a watch.
A man in the first row raises his hand.
Thank you, sir. Raphael, would you hand me the gentlemen’s watch?
Raphael walks into the audience and takes the watch.
DEATH. Are you ready?
AZRAEL. Ready, Madame.
A drum rolls, The thread is wound on the spool; slowly it inches its way out of Eurydice’s room into the metal box which Death holds in her hands. Azrael and Raphael stand behind Death, their backs turned. Azrael is counting. He holds one hand in the air like a referee at a boxing match. Raphael slowly goes through a set of hand signals, like a sailor practicing semaphore.
Enough!
The drum rolls cease. Raphael freezes in position. The thread is taut. Death rushes into Eurydice’s room. When she returns the bandage is no longer on her eyes and she carries a live dove which is attached to the end of the thread. The electric apparatus is no longer buzzing.
DEATH. Quick now. Quick, Raphael, the scissors!
She runs to the balcony.
Out here. Now, cut!
He cuts the thread. The dove flies into space.
Adjust the bandages. Azrael, show him how. It’s very simple. No, let him do it. He’s got to learn.
Azrael and Raphael close the metal boxes. They pack them in the suitcases along with the jackets, etc. Death leans on the table stage left. She passes one hand across her forehead, like someone waking from a deep sleep or hypnotic trance.
AZRAEL. Everything is in order, Madame.
DEATH. Then close the lids. Lock them. My cloak.
Azrael puts the cloak on her shoulders while Raphael closes the suitcases.
Have we forgotten anything?
AZRAEL. No, Madame.
DEATH. Then let’s go.
GENTLEMAN IN THE FIRST ROW. Psst!
AZRAEL. Oh, excuse me.
DEATH. What’s wrong?
AZRAEL. The watch! Raphael, give the gentleman back his watch, and don’t forget to thank him.
Raphael returns the watch.
DEATH. Hurry, Raphael, hurry.
RAPHAEL. I’m hurrying, Madame. I’m ready.
Death moves rapidly. She extends her arms and stands motionless in front of the mirror. Then she walks right into it, followed by her assistants who go through the same ritual. On the table, stage left, in full view of the audience are the rubber gloves which Death forgot to take with her. Immediately following Death’s last order to Raphael, we hear Orpheus in the garden.
ORPHEUS. You don’t know her the way I do. She makes an act out of it to get me back in the house.
The door opens. They enter. Heurtebise rushes to Eurydice’s room, looks in, steps back, and falls to his knees in the doorway.
Where is she? Eurydice!… I bet she’s sulking again. That woman will drive me out of my mind. The horse! Where’s the horse?
He uncovers the stall.
Gone! Someone must have opened the door. Someone must have frightened him away. I’ll make Eurydice pay for this!
He swings around and starts for Eurydice’s room.
HEURTEBISE. Stop!
ORPHEUS. You’re not going to keep me out of my own wife’s room!
HEURTEBISE. Look.
ORPHEUS. Where?
HEURTEBISE. Look through the glass on my back.
ORPHEUS, looks through one of the glass panes. She’s fallen asleep in the chair.
HEURTEBISE. She’s dead.
ORPHEUS. What?
HEURTEBISE. Dead. We arrived too late.
ORPHEUS. I don’t believe it.
He bangs on the glass.
Eurydice, darling! Wake up!
HEURTEBISE. It’s no use, I tell you.
ORPHEUS. Get out of the way. I’m going in.
He pushes Heurtebise aside.
Where is she?
Off stage.
She was here, I saw her, sitting in the chair next to the bed. The room’s empty!
He returns from Eurydice’s room.
Eurydice!
HEURTEBISE. You only thought you saw her. Eurydice has left this house. She’s gone to live with Death.
ORPHEUS. I don’t care about the horse. I want Eurydice. I want her to forgive me. Help me, Heurtebise. What can I do?
HEURTEBISE. Those few kind words have already helped you, Orpheus …
ORPHEUS, slumps to the table, sobbing. Dead! Eurydice’s dead!
He rises.
Well, I’ll get her back, I’ll find her again if I have to go all the way to the underworld.
HEURTEBISE. Orpheus … Listen to me. Calm yourself and listen to what I have to say.
ORPHEUS. Yes … I’ll be calm. But think, think of a way …
HEURTEBISE. I know one way to do it.
ORPHEUS. You do!
HEURTEBISE. But you’ll have to obey me t
o the letter.
ORPHEUS. I will. I swear I will.
During this dialogue Orpheus answers with a kind of docile fervor. The scene should be played very rapidly.
HEURTEBISE. Death came into your house to take Eurydice.
ORPHEUS. Yes …
HEURTEBISE. She forgot her rubber gloves.
A silence. Heurtebise walks to the table. Hesitates. Picks up the gloves gingerly — the way one might handle a holy relic.
ORPHEUS, terrified. Oh!
HEURTEBISE. You’re going to put them on.
ORPHEUS. If you say so …
HEURTEBISE. Put them on, Orpheus.
He hands the gloves to Orpheus who puts them on.
Now you are going to return these gloves to their owner, give them to her yourself.
ORPHEUS. If you say so …
HEURTEBISE. Death will be looking for her gloves. If you return them to her, she’ll offer a reward. Fundamentally, she’s a rather stingy person, she’d rather take away than give; and, since she’s had no experience with giving up what people have let her take away, she’ll be quite astonished by your gesture. Of course, she won’t offer much, but it’ll be something.
ORPHEUS. As you say.
HEURTEBISE, leads Orpheus to the mirror. Through here.
ORPHEUS. Through the mirror?
HEURTEBISE. For you, Orpheus, I am going to unwrap the secret of secrets. Mirrors are doors. It’s through them that Death moves back and forth into life. You’re not to tell anyone. Besides, spend your life looking at yourself in a mirror, and you’ll see Death at work like a swarm of bees storing up honey in a hive of glass. Good-by. And good luck!
ORPHEUS. But mirrors are solid glass.
HEURTEBISE, hand held high. With those gloves you’ll pass through mirrors as if they were water.
ORPHEUS. Where did you learn all this?
HEURTEBISE, hand drops to his side. Mirrors, you know, are only a special kind of glass. And glass is my business.
ORPHEUS. But once I go through that… that door …
HEURTEBISE. Take deep rhythmic breaths. Walk fearlessly straight ahead. Turn right, then left, then right, then straight ahead. After that I can’t explain … except that there are no more directions … you just keep on turning. It’s quite confusing at first.
ORPHEUS. And then where do I go?
HEURTEBISE. Then? No one can tell you what to do after that. That’s where Death begins.
