(_Based on an old legend_)
_A Room in the East. Some time ago. A Man and a Woman having supper._
_She._ You eat heartily, my pomegranate.
_He._ Yes, I am hungry. And I am happy, for is it not our bridal feast?
_She._ That reminds me. There is something I want to tell you. As a
matter of fact I meant to tell you before, but I have been so busy
buying clothes.
_He._ Oh, what is that? Pass the salt.
_She_ (_passing_). The fact is, you are not my first husband; at least,
not exactly.
_He._ How do you mean?
_She._ As a matter of fact you are the--the first but five.
_He_ (_working it out_). I see. I take it the others are away from home.
_She_ (_gently_). No. They died. Have some more salad?
_He._ Thank you. I’m sorry. At least, you know what I mean.
_She._ The odd thing was that they all died at the same time--in a way.
_He._ Oh! Was there an epidemic, or what?
_She._ Oh, no. What I mean is they each died the night we were married.
_He._ That _is_ curious. Why did they die?
_She._ Nobody knows. They just died. It’s given me a great deal of
bother.
_He._ But I suppose you’ve been able to use the same trousseau in each
case.
_She._ But nay; for I have invariably embroidered every garment in gold
and silver with the name and image of my love.
_He._ By Jove, what a bore! I say, have you embroidered any garments
with _my_ name and image? I’d like to see them.
_She_ (_sadly_). Nay, my beloved. This time I have embroidered nothing.
It seems such a waste.
_He._ Yes, yes, of course. All the same----You know, my olive branch, I
can’t help wishing you’d told me about this before we were wed.
_She._ I am sorry, my love. I can’t think how it slipped my memory.
But there was so much shopping to be done, and what with one thing and
another----_Do_ have some more salad.
_He._ Thanks; its delicious. By the way, who made it?
_She._ With her own fair hands your lily contrived it.
_He._ Oh! Perhaps, after all, I won’t have any more. I don’t feel so
hungry as I thought I did.
_She._ The last but two used to love my salads. All his married life----
_He_ (_musing_). By the way, when you say “night,” what time of night
do you mean? When did the last but two, for instance----
_She._ I should have said “evening” really; it was careless of me.
Usually about nine----
_He_ (_looking at hour-glass_). Curious--I don’t feel nearly so well. I
wonder if----
[_The curtains falls to denote the passage of a few months. When it
rises two people are discovered at supper--a Woman (the same one) and a
Man (a different one)._
_She._ You eat heartily, my pomegranate.
_He._ Who would not eat heartily on the day of his espousal to such a
maid as _thee_.
_She._ That reminds me. I knew there was something I wanted to tell
you, but the wedding put it quite out of my head.
_He._ Truly, what shouldst thou think of at thy espousal but thy spouse?
_She._ Do you minding saying “_you_”? None of the others have said
“_thou_.”
_He._ As you will, beloved. But of what “others” speakest thou?
_She._ Well, that’s really the point. The fact is, my tangerine, you
are not my first spouse--at least, not quite.
_He._ How so? What delicious salad!
_She._ Have some more. No, you are--let me see--one, two, three,
four--yes, you are the first but six. It’s rather a curious story; I
wonder if it will bore you?
_He._ What tale from thy sweet lips could tedious be?
_She._ I wish you’d get out of that “_thy_” habit; it’s so irritating.
Well, the fact is that all your predecessors died on the evening of our
wedding--I mean weddings--and nobody quite knows why.
_He._ Truly a strange tale. May I have just _one_ more go at the salad?
_She._ Of course. I’m so glad you like it. Curiously enough,
the one before you was very fond of it too; in fact I’ve often
wondered----Well, there it is. Now I do hope that nothing is going to
happen to you, my dear, because I should so hate to think that you had
been put to any inconvenience on my account. Besides, it upsets the
servants.
_He._ Have no fear, beloved. For I too have a secret. I _know_
thy--your--tragic history; a witch has revealed it unto me.
_She._ You _know_? Well, I do think you might have told me. I meant it
to be a surprise.
_He._ Further, she has given me a magic charm to protect us both.
_She._ I say, what’s that mess in the corner? There--on the plate.
_He._ That is the heart and liver of a fish, my apple.
_She._ I hope you haven’t brought a cat into the house; father can’t
bear them.
_He._ Nay, my love, that is the charm.
_She._ It looks a very large one. What fish is it?
_He._ It is the heart and liver of a sturgeon.
_She._ I suppose it couldn’t have been done with an anchovy?
_He._ Nay, nay. For the witch enjoined me; first I must burn it----
_She._ Yes, I think you’d better.
_He._ See? (_Burns._) The ashes thereof will drive away the evil spirit
that molests you.
_She_ (_recoiling_). And I don’t wonder.
[_The Curtain falls, and rises again the next morning. The room is
full of smoke._
_He_ (_shaving_). Who is that man digging in the garden?
_She._ Oh, that’s father. He’s digging a grave for you. It’s become a
sort of habit with him.
_He._ Wilt thou not tell him it is not required?
_She_ (_through the window_). Father, we shan’t want it this time.
Sorry.
_He._ I thank thee.
_She_ (_irritable_). Oh, do stop saying “_thee_.” And will you please
take these horrible ashes and throw them away _at once_? Really, I can
hardly breathe.
_He._ Nay, my love. They are our charm against danger. Art not
thou--aren’t you, I mean--grateful?
_She._ Yes, of course. But they’ve done the trick by now. We can’t
spend our whole married life in this atmosphere.
_He._ But indeed we must. The witch enjoined me that, unless they were
preserved, I should perish, even as those before me.
_She._ Well, I’m extremely sorry, but I really can’t stand this.
(_Through the window._) Father, you might bury this, will you? (_throws
down the ashes_). Thank you. Oh, and don’t fill up the hole yet. We may
want it after all.