HARRIET, a cultured woman
HETTY, her primitive self
MARGARET, a cultured woman
MAGGIE, her primitive self
TIME: The present.
SCENE: HARRIET'S fashionable living-room. The door at the back leads
to the hall. In the centre a tea table with a chair either side. At the
back a cabinet.
HARRIET'S gown is a light, "jealous" green. Her counterpart, HETTY,
wears a gown of the same design but in a darker shade. MARGARET wears a
gown of lavender chiffon while her counterpart, MAGGIE, wears a gown of
the same design in purple, a purple scarf veiling her face. Chiffon is
used to give a sheer effect, suggesting a possibility of primitive
and cultured selves merging into one woman. The primitive and cultured
selves never come into actual physical contact but try to sustain the
impression of mental conflict. HARRIET never sees HETTY, never talks to
her but rather thinks aloud looking into space. HETTY, however, looks at
HARRIET, talks intently and shadows her continually. The same is true of
MARGARET and MAGGIE. The voices of the cultured women are affected
and lingering, the voices of the primitive impulsive and more or less
staccato. When the curtain rises HARRIET is seated right of tea table,
busying herself with the tea things.
HETTY. Harriet. [There is no answer.] Harriet, my other self. [There is
no answer.] My trained self.
HARRIET [listens intently]. Yes? [From behind HARRIET'S chair HETTY
rises slowly.]
HETTY. I want to talk to you.
HARRIET. Well?
HETTY [looking at HARRIET admiringly]. Oh, Harriet, you are beautiful
to-day.
HARRIET. Am I presentable, Hetty?
HETTY. Suits me.
HARRIET. I've tried to make the best of the good points.
HETTY. My passions are deeper than yours. I can't keep on the mask as
you do. I'm crude and real, you are my appearance in the world.
HARRIET. I am what you wish the world to believe you are.
HETTY. You are the part of me that has been trained.
HARRIET. I am your educated self.
HETTY. I am the rushing river; you are the ice over the current.
HARRIET. I am your subtle overtones.
HETTY. But together we are one woman, the wife of Charles Goodrich.
HARRIET. There I disagree with you, Hetty, I alone am his wife.
HETTY [indignantly]. Harriet, how can you say such a thing!
HARRIET. Certainly. I am the one who flatters him. I have to be the one
who talks to him. If I gave you a chance you would tell him at once that
you dislike him.
HETTY [moving away], I don't love him, that's certain.
HARRIET. You leave all the fibbing to me. He doesn't suspect that my
calm, suave manner hides your hatred. Considering the amount of scheming
it causes me it can safely be said that he is my husband.