_Same appointments as in first Act. It is day. On the little
table are flowers._ DON JUAN _discovered seated close to the
tea-table._ LAZARUS _also discovered. He sometime walks about;
again he sits down: he tries to write, he throws away the pen. He
opens a book and reads for a few moments, closes it irritably and
resumes his walking about. It is evident that he is uneasy and
nervous. All this in the course of the scene with his father._ DON
JUAN _follows him with his eyes and smokes a puro._
JUAN. What are you thinking of? Ah! pardon! I must not disturb you.
LAZ. You don’t disturb me, father. I was thinking of nothing important.
My imagination was wandering, and I was wandering after it.
JUAN. If you wish to work--to write--to read--and I trouble you I shall
go. Ha, I shall go. (_Rising._) Do you want me to go? for here I am
going.
LAZ. No, father, good gracious! You disturb me!
JUAN (_sitting down again_). The fact is, as you see, that which I do
can be done anywhere. It is in substance nothing. Well, for the
performance of nothing any point of space is good. (_Laughing._) Of
space! There are your philosophical offshoots taking root in me. The
father in space, the son in the fifth heaven. That’s why I say if I
disturb----
LAZ. No, father, don’t go away; and let us talk of what you please.
JUAN. Much good you’d get by talking with me. To your great books, to
your papers, to those things which astound by their greatness and are
admired for their beauty! Continue--continue! I shall see you at work.
I, too, shall busy myself with something. (_Pulls the bell._)
LAZ. As you like. [_Sits down and writes fitfully._
_Enter_ TERESA.
JUAN. Little Teresa--(_looking at his son and correcting himself_.)
Teresa, bring me a glass of sherry and a few biscuits; I also have to
busy myself with something. And bring me the French newspapers; no,
nothing but _Figaro_ and _Gil Blas_. (_To his son._) And so we shall
both be at work. (_To_ TERESA.) Listen--by the way, bring me that novel
which is in my room. You can read, can’t you?
TER. Yes, señor.
JUAN. Well, then, a book which says _Nana_--you understand?
TER. Yes, señor. Ná-ná.--For no is ná.
JUAN. It is something, little girl,--(_aside_) something that you will
be in time. [_Exit_ TERESA.
LAZ. (_Rises and walks about--aside_). I have no ideas. To-day I have no
ideas. Yes, I have many; but they come like a flight of birds; they
flutter about--and they go.
JUAN. See now--I cannot bear immoral novels.
LAZ. You said ...?
JUAN. Nothing! I thought that you said something. I said that I cannot
endure immoral novels. (_Assuming airs of austerity._) I read them, I
read “Nana,” out of curiosity, as a study, but I can’t bear them.
Literature is in a lost condition, my son, in a lost condition. Nemesio
lent me that book--and I am anxious to have done with it.
LAZ. Zola is a great writer. (_Aside._) This is the very thing that I
was looking for. (_He sits and writes._)
_Enter_ TERESA _with a tray, a bottle of sherry, a glass and the
biscuits_, “Nana” _and the two newspapers_.
TER. Here is everything. The sherry: the newspapers just come, the
tender little biscuits, and the tender little _Nana_ (baby) as well.
(_She stands looking at the two gentlemen._)
JUAN. Bring the sherry closer, Teresa.--Work, boy, work. Take no notice
of me. Work, for it is thus that men attain success. I also in my youth
have worked much. That’s the reason I look so old. (_Staring at_ TERESA
_who laughs_.) (_Aside._) What’s that stupid girl laughing at?--(_To_
TERESA.) Now, you may go. I don’t want you. The _Gil Blas_! (_Unfolds it
and begins to read it._) Let us have a look at these wretched little
newspapers.... (_affecting contempt._) I told you to go.--(_To_
TERESA.)--Let’s see, let’s see. (_Reads._)
TER. Yes, señor. (_She remains for awhile looking at the two, and turns
towards the door in the back centre._)
LAZ. (_rising_). Teresa--
TER. Señorito--
LAZ. Come here and speak lower: let us not disturb your master, who is
reading. Did you take the letter which I gave you this morning?
TER. Yes, señorito, I took it myself. Whatever you require me to do,
señorito!...
LAZ. Good. It was for Señor Bermudez, eh?
TER. Yes, señorito. That doctor who has such a great name, who has come
from Madrid for a few days to cure Don Luciano Barranco--the same who,
they say, is either mad or not mad. (_Laughing._)
LAZ. (_starting, then restraining himself_). Ah! Yes. Quite so; the
same. And did you see him? Did you hand him the letter? Did he give you
the answer? Where is it? Come, quick!
TER. Eh, señorito--
LAZ. Come--
TER. I gave the letter: he was not in:--they said--
LAZ. Lower--(_Looking at his father who laughs while reading the
newspaper._)
TER. They said that as soon as he came back they would give him the
letter. Have no fear, señorito. Whatever little I take charge of! Well,
if I do nothing worse than--
LAZ. It’s well--thanks. (_Dismissing her, then recalling her._) Oh! if
they bring the answer--here on the instant--eh?
TER. On the instant: I should think so! have no fear, señorito.
LAZ. Enough! let us not trouble my father.
JUAN. Ha! ha! ha! Facetious, very facetious! sprightly, very sprightly!
Pungent as a capsicum from the Rioja! It is the only newspaper that one
can read!
LAZ. Some interesting article? What is it? What does it say? Let me see!
(_Approaching and stretching out his hand._)
JUAN (_keeping back the newspaper_). A very shameless little
article--and quite without point. It must be put away. (_Puts it in a
pocket of his dressing-gown, but in such a way that it may be seen._)
May the devil not so contrive things that Carmen may come and find the
newspaper and read it in all innocence.
LAZ. (_withdrawing_). It is true: you do well! (_Walks about
nervously._)
JUAN (_aside_). And I had not finished reading it: I shall read it
afterwards. (_Takes up_ “Nana.”) This also is good. The spring with all
its verdure. (_Aloud._) Work, boy, work!
LAZ. (_aside_). I shall speak to the Doctor this very day, that he may
set my mind at ease. I know that nothing is the matter with me; but I
want a specialist to assure me on the point. And then, with mind at
peace--to my drama, to my critico-historical work, to my æsthetic
theories which are new, completely new--and to Carmen. And with the muse
at one side, recounting marvels in my ear, and with Carmen on the other
side, pressed against my heart--to enjoy life, to inhale the odour of
triumphs, to live for love, to satiate my longings amidst eternal
mysteries.
JUAN. Stupendous! Monumental! Sufficient to make one die of laughing.
Lord, why does a man read? To be amused; then books that are amusing for
me! (_Laughing._)
LAZ. Is that a nice book?
JUAN (_changing his tone_). Pshaw--yes--pretty well. But these frivolous
things are tiresome after all. (_Sees_ LAZARUS _coming towards him, and
puts_ “Nana” _into the other pocket of the dressing-gown_.) Have you
anything solid to read--really substantial?
LAZ. I have many large books. What class do you want?
JUAN. Something serious; something that instructs you, that makes you
think.
LAZ. (_going to the bookcase_). Would you like something of Kant?
JUAN. Of Kant? Do you say of Kant? Quite so! he was my favourite author.
When I was young I went to sleep every night reading Kant. (_Aside._)
What will that be? It sounds like a dog.
LAZ. (_searching out a passage_). If you like, I shall tell you.
JUAN. No, my lad; any part whatever! (_Taking the book._) Yes, this may
be read at any part. You shall see. And don’t concern yourself with me;
write, my son, write.
LAZARUS _sits and attempts to write_. DON JUAN _reads_.
“Under the aspect of relationship, the third consequence of taste, the
beautiful appears to us as the final form of an object, without
representation of end.” The devil! (_holding the book far off, as
long-sighted people do and contemplating it with terror._) The devil!
“or as a finality without end.” Whoever can understand this? “Because
what is called final form is the causality of any conception whatever
with relation to the object.” Let me see--let me see. (_Holding the book
still further off._) “Final form the causality.” I believe I am
perspiring. (_Wipes his forehead._) “The consciousness of this finality
without end is the play of the cognitive forces.” How does he say that?
“The play of the forces--the play.” Well, I ought to understand this
about play. “The consciousness of this internal causality is that which
constitutes the æsthetic pleasure.” If I go on it will give me a
congestion. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! And to think that Lazarus
understands about the finality without end, the causality and the play
of the cognitive forces! God help me! What a boy!--(_continues
reading._) “The principle of the formal convenience of nature is the
transcendental principle of the force of Judgment.” (_Giving a blow on
the table._) I shall be lost if I continue reading. But if that boy
reads these things he will go mad.
LAZ. Does it interest you?
JUAN. Very much! What depth! (_Aside._) For five minutes I have been
falling, and I have not reached the bottom. (_Aloud._) I should think it
does interest me! But, frankly, I prefer--
LAZ. Hegel?
JUAN. Exactly. (_Aside_)--“Nana.” But you, my son, neither read, nor
write: you are fretful. What’s the matter with you? Did the hunting tire
you? Yet the exercise of the chase is very healthy for one who like you
wears himself away over his books. Are you ill?
LAZ. No, señor, I am not ill. And I spent these three days in the
country very pleasantly. But this morning broke dull and rainy, and I
said--“Home!”
JUAN. And you arrived when I was getting up. I told you the great news;
immediately you showed great delight; but then you fell into sublime
preoccupations. Poor Carmen! (_approaching him with an air of secrecy._)
You don’t love her as she loves you.
LAZ. With all my soul! More than you can imagine! I am as I am:
reserved, untamed, unpolished--but I know how to love!
JUAN. Better and better! The poor little thing--come, now--the poor
little thing.
LAZ. And why did not Don Timoteo answer on the spot that he accepted?
When you asked him for his daughter for me, why did he hesitate?
JUAN. What do you mean by hesitation? I do him the honour of requesting
the hand of Carmen for my Lazarus--and he would hesitate! I should
strangle the scarecrow. Marry a man like you! What more could any
daughter or any father desire?
LAZ. Then why did he put off the answer till to-day?
JUAN. The prescriptions of etiquette: social conventionalities: he was
always a great stickler for etiquette. Because he must consult with
Carmen. Imagine him consulting with Carmen! When the poor little thing
is like a soul in purgatory, and you are her heaven.--Ha! ha!
LAZ. You are right.
JUAN. No: you shall have your sweet little wife, your home; you shall
work hard, you shall gain great glory, you shall keep a sound
judgment--and let the whole world say: Don Lazarus Mejia, son of Don
Juan Mejia! Oh!
LAZ. Yes, señor: I shall do what I can--and I shall love my Carmen
dearly.
JUAN. That’s right--that’s right. But something’s the matter with you.
You seem as it were absent-minded.
LAZ. I am thinking--of my drama.
JUAN. Then I shall go! decidedly I shall go! With my insipid chatter I
prevent you from thinking. Oh! thought! the--the--(_looking at the
book_) “the cognitive forces”--the--the--(_looking again_) “the
finality”--that’s it--“the finality.”--Ah!--Good-bye.
LAZ. But don’t go away on my account.
JUAN. We must show respect to the wise. (_Laughing._) I am going to read
all alone the great book which you have lent me. (_Taking a flower and
putting it in the buttonhole of his dressing-gown._) Consider now,
whether I shall hesitate between Kant and “Nana.” (_Pulls the bell._)
LAZ. As you please.
JUAN. Good-bye, my son. To your drama--to your drama--and put nothing
immoral in it.
_Enter_ TERESA.
TER. Señor.--
JUAN. Listen, Teresa: take all that to my room. Wait--(_Pours himself
out a glass. Touching one pocket._) Here is _Gil Blas_, (_touching_)
here is “Nana”: Kant hauled along by the neck--and to my room. Work, my
boy, work! Do something great. Leave something to the world. I shall
leave you--I think--(_drinking the glass of wine._) Well, this
finality--has an end. To work--to work?--Good-bye. Lord, what a Lazarus
this is! To my room with all that, little Teresa.
[_Exit carrying in one pocket_ Gil Blas, _in the other_ “Nana,” _in
his buttonhole the flower, and gripped very hard the volume of
Kant_.
LAZ. Teresa, they have brought no letter for me?
TER. (_preparing to remove the wine and the biscuits_). No, señor.
LAZ. Patience: you did not tell my mother I had written to that Señor de
Bermudez.
TER. No, señor.
LAZ. Has my mother got up?
TER. Got up, indeed! Before you returned this morning from hunting, Doña
Dolores had already gone to call for the Señorita Carmen that they might
go to Mass together.
LAZ. Good.
TER. And I don’t know how she rose so early, nor how she found courage
to go out.
LAZ. Why?
TER. Because last night she was very ill: very ill indeed.
LAZ. (_starting up_). My mother!
TER. Yes, señor. I say that it must have been the nerves. How she cried:
how she twisted her arms! Indeed I wanted to send an express messenger
for you to come back at once.
LAZ. Ah! my God, my poor mother! and why was I not informed? I would
have mounted on horseback; and in one hour--here.
TER. Because the señora would not have it so. “Silence, not a word to
anybody,” so she said, and an order from her is an order.
LAZ. But how is it possible? My father said nothing to me!
TER. He was not informed: he went to the theatre, afterwards to the
Casino with Don Timoteo and Don Nemesio; he returned late, and as the
señora had given orders--“to nobody”--nothing was said to him; and he
knew nothing.
LAZ. But how was it? Why was it? She who is never ill!
TER. I don’t know. The señora dined early and alone. Afterwards she went
out. She came back at ten o’clock: she could scarcely enter her room,
and immediately fell to the ground--just like a tower that falls.
LAZ. My God! my God! And you never informed me!
TER. Well, I am informing you now. And in spite of what she said, “not a
word.” But as to you--for your sake! Oh! when it concerns you, señorito.
(LAZARUS _pays no attention to her._) But don’t be distressed: this
morning already she was so strong and so well: yes, really, very pale
and with such dark circles round the eyes! but so strong. We women are
thus: now we are dying and afterwards we revive: we go back to death and
again we return to life.
LAZ. You mean that now she is well? But entirely well?
TER. Don’t I tell you she is as well as could be? Let your mind rest,
señorito.
LAZARUS, _very much agitated, has been walking about_.
LAZ. Good, good, if it has already passed off--in short, when my mother
returns, tell me.
TER. You have no other orders?
LAZ. No. (_A bell rings several times._) My father is calling: go, go
quickly. The vibrating of the bell makes me nervous.
TER. I must take away this. (_Takes up the trays._)
LAZ. (_the bell continues ringing_). Take it away quickly for pity’s
sake.
TER. On the instant; what a hurry that good gentleman is in!
LAZ. And if they bring the answer from Señor de Bermudez.
TER. Immediately afterwards. (_The bell continues._) I am coming, I am
coming. (_She says this without calling aloud, as if to herself._)
LAZ. (_alone_). What she has told me about my poor mother has unstrung
all my nerves. I am not well. Bah! I am not ill. How Doctor Bermudez
will laugh at me when I consult him. The fact is that I am very
apprehensive; but I feel strong: Javier says to me every moment: “My
boy, don’t strut about on your heels so much.” Steady; so, steady. (_He
walks about, treads with his heels and laughs._) I know now what’s the
matter. I am very happy and I have a horrible dread of losing so much
happiness. Very happy. (_Counting on his fingers._) My father and
mother, so good; Carmen, who adores me; I, who am raving about her;
glory, which calls me; I who answer, “Forward, Lazarus”; my eyes, which
are my own and are never satiated with drinking in light and colours; my
thought, which is mine, and which does not tire of originating wonders;
my life, which is mine, and which desires to live more, to live
more--yes, more! (_A pause._) They say that life is dull, that it is
mournful. Buffoons! Has anything better been discovered? Is it better to
be stone which has no nerves to quiver with delight? Is it better to be
water which always runs in headlong stupidity without knowing where it
goes? Is it better to be air to blow without motive and to fill itself
with the foulest earth and dust? No, it is better to be Lazarus.
(_Resumes the counting on his fingers._) For Lazarus has very good
parents; he has Carmen; he has glory; he has life; and he has, above
all, thought, reason! Ha! I have all this: I have it: what remains to be
done if I have it! (_Sits down in a somewhat cowering manner._) It is
evident--because all this is so good, and because I have it, I am afraid
to lose it. I am as terrified as a little child; at times it seems to me
that I am a little child, and I am seized with impulses to run to my
mother and wrap myself round in her skirt. A man who almost understands
Kant and Hegel; who writes dramas which are very well received, yes,
señor, very well received; who meditates transcendental works. A man, in
every sense a man, who has fought duels in Madrid, and has had a little
love affair or so--(_laughing_)--and very pleasant too: the practical
reason, not of Kant but of Zola, which turns the Pure Reason of Kant
into ridicule and makes even the good matron laugh. Well then, this
formidable Lazarus at times is a child, and he would like his mother to
embrace him and to buy him toys! To be a child, yes; all the same it is
good to be a child. Nay. I should like it. (_Laughing._) But what
absurdities! Lord, what absurdities! (_Remains cowering in his chair,
thinking and laughing very low._)
_Enter_ TERESA.
TER. Señorito, a gentleman has given me this card.
LAZ. (_as if awaking_). A gentleman? Let me see--Doctor Bermudez! But
why has he put himself to inconvenience? I would have gone to him. Let
him come in. Let him come in. Quick, woman, let him come in. (_Exit_
TERESA.) With this man I must have much prudence, much composure, much
calm. If he had heard the nonsense that I was talking! What a terror!
TERESA. (_re-entering and announcing_). Señor de Bermudez. [_Exit_
TERESA.
_Enter_ BERMUDEZ.
BERM. Señor Don Lazarus Mejia?
LAZ. Your servant--very much your servant--one who is grieved to the
heart for having troubled a person such as you. A man of eminence--a man
of knowledge. (_With much courtesy, but endeavouring to restrain
himself._)
BERM. Not so--not so--I received your letter.
LAZ. Indeed, it was not meant that you should give yourself any trouble.
I begged you to be good enough to appoint a time for me and I should
have gone to your house. But take a seat. I cannot allow you to remain
standing an instant longer. Sit down! (_Making him sit down._)
Here--no--here--you will be better here.
BERM. Many thanks. You are very amiable! (_Takes a seat._)
LAZ. I don’t know whether I am entitled to sit down in the presence of a
man like yourself; a national glory! (_Commands himself so that his
accent is natural: perhaps however he errs a little by excess of
courtesy._)
BERM. For goodness’ sake!
LAZ. A man of European fame!
BERM. You overwhelm me. I don’t deserve--(_Aside._) He is very engaging,
this young man. They were right in Madrid to say that he has plenty of
ability.
LAZ. You don’t deserve it? Ah! in the mouth of a celebrity like Doctor
Bermudez, modesty will always have a voice, but it has no vote.
BERM. Señor de Mejia. (_Aside._) How well he speaks!
LAZ. Don’t treat me ceremoniously. I am not deserving of so much
solemnity. “Señor de Mejia”! (_Laughing._) Call me Lazarus. I really
don’t deserve anything better; treat me as a master might a pupil. I
dare not say as a kind friend would treat a respectful friend.
BERM. As you please. It will be an honour for me! (_Aside._) Very
engaging, very engaging!
LAZ. Well, I repeat that I am sorry at heart for having given you this
trouble.
BERM. Not at all. I already told your mother last night that if at any
other time she required me, or if she wished by any further suggestions
to make me amplify my opinion, I was unconditionally at her orders. A
card saying to me “Come,” and I should come instantly. And so it is that
on receiving the letter this morning--as you may imagine--I said, “I
must place myself at the feet of that lady, and I must personally become
acquainted with her son, a national glory of the future, one who is
destined to have a European renown.”
LAZ. Señor de Bermudez! (_Repudiating the honour with a gesture.
Aside._) My mother--last night--what does he say? (_Commanding himself,
then aloud._) So my mother went last night--to see you--because----
BERM. Yes, señor, she has already explained everything to me. That you
were out hunting, and that you did not mean to return this week; that
she had been informed that I was going back to Madrid this day, and that
she had been anxious to consult me without the loss of a moment
concerning the illness of that poor young man--a cousin or a nephew, or
a relative--I think he is a nephew of your mother, whose name she said
was--Don Luis--Don Luis----
LAZ. Quite so--_a nephew_. You have it. (_Smiling. Then aside._) What’s
this? What relative is that? Why, it is not true. God of Heaven!
(_Aloud._) A nephew--that’s it. To whom God does not give sons, the
devil,---- (_Laughing._) Yes, but she also has me--her Lazarus, her son!
BERM. And she must be proud.
LAZ. Señor de Bermudez, have compassion on a beginner. But I wish you to
explain to me what you had the kindness to explain to my mother; because
ladles--don’t understand much about medical science--and though I
understand just as little of it, nevertheless----
BERM. Quite so; it is a speciality.
LAZ. A speciality, that’s it; it is a speciality. And moreover, I know
that young man more intimately--poor Luis! And I can supply you with
fresh particulars.
BERM. Oh! those of your mother were very precise. She has a keenly
observant mind.
LAZ. Very much so; don’t you describe it well! A keenly observant mind.
(_Aside._) My God!--my mother--and on her return home--her weeping--what
does this man say?
BERM. Altogether it would be better that I should see the poor young
man; but should that not be possible----
LAZ. I should think it is possible, and that would be the best. You
shall see him. I myself will take him to you--to your house. Yes, señor,
to your house; yes, señor.
BERM. That will do perfectly. That was what I said to your mother, but
she told me in reply that so long as things don’t come to an extremity,
families require to consider. I understand and I impute no blame.
LAZ. Nothing of the kind. Now, at this very moment you shall come with
me to see that--that poor young man. A man like you! Why, there’s no
difficulty about it.
BERM. (_rising_). Then I await your orders.
LAZ. Allow me, my friend, my dear friend: first of all I should like--I
beg of you to tell me what my mother explained to you and what was your
opinion; because, although she related everything to me this morning, I
should be glad to hear it from your lips. One learns everything by
listening to such a man as Doctor Bermudez. (_In a persuasive tone._) I
am so anxious that you should speak, and that I should hear you. Indeed,
it has been the dream of my existence. Speak, speak.
BERM. Dear Lazarus. (_Aside._) I have fascinated him, decidedly.
(_Aloud._) Your mother explained to me with great lucidity all the
antecedents of the patient: his sufferings when a child, his character,
his studies, his excitable imagination, the first symptoms of the
illness, a fainting attack, another more violent.
LAZ. (_somewhat drily_). All that I know already. Go on. (_With extreme
cordiality._) Go on, my dear Bermudez.
BERM. The doctor is rather like a confessor, and your mother did not
object to letting me know of the youthful days of the father--of the
father of the young man.
LAZ. Ah! his youthful days--yes--his youthful days--yes--yes--and what
else?
BERM. His vicious conduct; his unbridled libertinism----
LAZ. (_excitedly_). Libertinism! (_Controlling himself._) Yes. (_With a
forced laugh._) Follies of youth. A lady always exaggerates these
things. I have not been a saint myself; neither have you. Doctor,
doctor, you with all your science and all your gravity. God knows. God
knows! Oh! these doctors! (_Giving him a slap on the back._) And what
more?
BERM. (_laughing_). We are mortals and sinners, friend Lazarus.
LAZ. And we take for fine gold little lenses of talc. Come, come to the
talc.
BERM. Thus stands the case--that that good gentleman, the father of the
patient, reached the age of gravity, and he was not a steady man, and he
did not correct his faults. His wife seems to have suffered very much.
Is all this exact which your mother told me? Because if it is exact it
must be taken into account. That’s the reason I ask.
LAZ. (_aside_). My head! Oh my head! (_Succeeds in commanding himself,
and speaks naturally. Aloud._) See, doctor, those are details of which I
know nothing. But if my mother told you so, it will be true. My mother
is a superior spirit, a most pure soul, a mother beyond comparison. But
let us not speak of the mother, only of the son, that’s to say of the
son of the other mother. Therefore let’s see, let’s see. What more did
she tell you?
BERM. That to prevent the son from becoming fully acquainted with the
disorders of the father--because the boy, naturally, was growing up, the
mother had to send him to a college in France.
LAZ. (_aside_). It is I. It is I! Ah! ah! Calm! let me be calm!
BERM. What do you say?
LAZ. Nothing. I laugh at those family tragedies--the father a madcap,
and the son,---- And as you fill me with such respect--and as the
subject is so sad--I should not have presumed to laugh. Ah! Señor de
Bermudez, what a world this is!--what a world this is! Come, come.
(_Growing calm._) Yes, señor, the history, so far as I know, is entirely
correct. Then they sent him to study in Madrid--that unfortunate,
unfortunate youth: but, look you, not so unfortunate--for he went
through his course with distinction.
BERM. Quite so, and the father remained always the same.
LAZ. (_somewhat harshly_). Let us not speak of the father. And why?
Because the son is now launched on the world; then let us leave out of
the question the other. (_Recollecting himself._) Ah! pardon me. I love
my father so much, I respect him so much, that those words which you
have uttered have caused me much pain, much pain. A weakness I confess;
a man of science does not know those weaknesses; but we poets are thus.
You--you raise yourselves above the level of human miseries. The eagle
soars alike--eh? above the peak of granite with its robe of frost--eh?
and over the infected puddle--or the mire--the mire--eh? But we are not
all as Doctor Bermudez? (_Grasping his hand._)
BERM. I respect your delicacy: but science is implacable. A father who
has consumed his life in vice----
LAZARUS _retreats in his chair_.
Who has wallowed with all the energies of his nature in the mire of
riot, who has heated his blood in the embers of all impure fires--runs
the danger of transmitting to his son nothing but the germs of death or
the germs of madness!
LAZARUS _recoils more and more_.
And I tell you, as I told your mother last night, without prejudice to
the rectification of my opinion when I have examined the patient, that
if the description which you have given me is exact--and I conclude that
it is----
LAZ. It is. What then?
BERM. Ah! the springs of life cannot be corrupted with impunity. _The
Son of that father_ will very soon sink into madness or into idiocy. A
madman or an idiot: such is his fate!
(_He says this without looking round, with solemnity,
like one who pronounces a sentence: gazing forward and motioning with his arm
towards_ LAZARUS. _The latter cowers in his chair and looks at_
BERMUDEZ _with horror_.)
LAZ. Ah! No! What? My father! I! A lie! A lie! It is a lie! (_Hides his
face in his hands._)
BERM. What’s this? Lazarus! Señor de Mejia! Are you ill? What do you
say? (_Rising and approaching_ LAZARUS.) I don’t understand! Can it be?
What?
LAZ. That I am the madman? Silence! That I am the idiot? Silence! That I
am such--I? Look at me well: study me well: strengthen your judgment:
meditate, examine, give sentence!
BERMUDEZ _standing_, LAZARUS _seated and clutching
the doctor by the arm_.
BERM. But this is not fair, Señor de Mejia! This is not just! By God--by
the Holy God!
LAZ. Fairness, justice, in a man such as I? Bermudez, Bermudez, I did
wrong, I confess--(_with a mixture of courtesy, sadness, and some
sarcasm_)--An idiot who presents his most humble excuses to a wise man!
Be generous, pardon me.
BERM. You have not understood me. I am sorry for you, Lazarus, because I
have given you--a shock--a bad time of it, without cause--believe me,
without any cause. God help me, these dramatic authors--no, one is not
safe with them! (_Wishing to turn the matter off with a laugh._)
LAZ. Let us be calm, let us be calm. I want the truth; there still
remains to me some glimmer of reason, and I can understand what you say
to me. Ha! the truth--Bermudez, the truth! It is the last truth that I
can understand, and I wish to enjoy it. (_Rising._) Out with it! I still
understand--yes--still!
BERM. Friend Lazarus! By all the saints of the heavenly court!----
LAZ. No, I still keep my senses; I shall explain to you all that has
passed. My mother, pretending to inquire about another, inquired about
me; I, pretending to be interested on another’s account, was interested
on my own, and a poor mother and a lost wretch have between them cajoled
a wise man. Ah! cajoled--no: pardon. We wished to know the
truth--nothing more; but as the truth is treacherous, it is necessary at
times to drag it forth by treason. I humbly beg that you will pardon
us--my mother--and myself.
BERM. I tell you that I cannot recover from my surprise; that I am cut
to the heart for having spoken with such levity. I have already told you
that my opinion was haphazard--quite haphazard--without examination of
the patient. (_Seeking where to go._)
LAZ. Well, here is the patient. Don’t I tell you that I am the man? Oh,
have no fear: I am a man capable of looking face to face upon death, and
of answering the grimace of madness with another grimace even more
grotesque. While a heart remains to me, the head will obey.
BERM. For God’s sake, calm yourself. All this is not serious.
LAZ. I am perfectly calm; I am still master of myself. Sit down. (_Makes
him take a seat._) Let us talk quietly. Tell me all, but in a low voice,
that my mother may not know; that she may not know. And of my father,
not a word! Of my father--no, enough--nothing! I have been a madman in
Madrid, so that the madness is mine. It is all mine! Oh! you deny that
it is all mine? That is not right, Señor de Bermudez. Take to yourself
the accusation that it is not right. You deny me my own reason, and you
even wish to deprive me of my own madness, saying--saying--that my
father--silence! Well, my reason may not belong to me: patience! But my
madness belongs to me; I swear to you that it belongs to me, and I shall
defend it--I shall defend it, Bermudez! (_Advances upon the physician.
Then restrains himself._) And now, let us talk soberly of myself--of my
suffering.
BERM. Señor de Mejia, dear Lazarus--as for what I told you a while
since, it was purely hypothetical; now that I know you, I modify my
opinion in every point.
LAZ. (_with a mocking smile_). Indeed? By God, Señor de Bermudez, that I
am a madman we’ll let pass; but I am not yet an idiot.
BERM. By God, Señor de Mejia, I am sure that I shall go out of this
house either an idiot or a madman!
LAZ. When do you calculate that I shall suffer the decisive attack--the
last: that of eternal night; that which surrounds us with blackness for
ever? How easily it is known that I have been a poet, eh? Eternal night,
eternal blackness! Is it not true? However, say--when? What term do you
allow me? A year? three months? or is it immediately? Candidly. You see,
now, that I still hear, and understand, and even speak poetically.
Eternal blackness, eternal night! However, let me know--let me know. A
year, eh?
BERM. It is readily perceived that you are a poet. You plunge into the
regions of phantasy. You see, your nervous system is shaken, somewhat
shaken. I don’t deny it; but I make myself responsible for your cure;
do you want more?
LAZ. We are coming to the point. As for my cure, I am ready to believe
that. But the decisive attack--when? I have such a feeling these few
days past, that I think it will be very soon.
BERM. Ravings, ravings! these are ravings.
LAZ. Precisely. Ah! you have said it--ravings. Come, an effort. Will it
be to-morrow, will it be to-day?
BERM. Neither to-day, nor to-morrow, nor within twenty years, if you
keep your senses.
LAZ. If I keep my senses! You are ingenious. “I shall not lose my senses
if I keep my senses.” Naturally.
BERM. A good sign: now we are joking.
LAZ. Yes, I am very quiet. At first I felt a wave of blood roll through
my brain; then a wave of ice, which spread through all my being. And
now--well--quiet--tired, a little tired, nothing more.
BERM. Good; then take a rest, put your mind at ease; and before my
setting out for Madrid I shall return. I have to convince you----
LAZ. I am convinced! Oh, my God! I don’t wish to keep you any longer, I
have sufficiently abused your kindness.
BERM. (_making a movement to withdraw_). Then if you will permit me----
LAZ. Yes, señor, assuredly (_accompanying him_). And don’t have any
ill-will towards me.
BERM. Good God--no; however, my friend----
LAZ. (_detaining him_). One moment! (_In his ear._) When?
BERM. Some other time.
LAZ. No; the one thing that I wish you to tell me, is this: “Lazarus,
there is no hope; the attack will be next month, or next week, or
to-morrow, or to-night, or this very hour,” in short, when must it be?
This is the only thing you have to tell me: I ask no more.
BERM. But how can you have me knowingly utter nonsense?
LAZ. (_energetically_). Because you have the inevitable power of telling
me the truth; however sharp, however bitter, however mournful, it may
be, you must tell it to me. It is a question of honour, of life or
death. Now you shall understand me. (_In a low voice in the doctor’s
ear._) I love, I adore Carmen; our wedding has been arranged: it will
take place in a short time--within fifteen days. And now, answer me: Can
I, in conscience, without being guilty of infamy, can I bind the
existence of Carmen to my existence--to the existence of an idiot?
BERM. What a question!
LAZ. If you are a man of honour----. What, go away without answering me?
Well, the way is free to you (_withdrawing from him_). Oh! I’ll not
detain you.
BERM. By God, Lazarus----
LAZ. But reflect, that through the cowardice of a moment, through not
having spoken to me as one man speaks to another man--for I still am a
man--you are about to do great mischief. Because if you don’t say to me,
“Renounce,” I shall not renounce Carmen; I shall embrace her and drag
her down with me to the abyss.
BERM. You see that I can do no more.
LAZ. You see that love is life--the oil of life which propagates itself.
And what will be our posterity? Come, say it, boldly. A swarm of
neurotics, of idiots, of lunatics, perhaps of criminals. A common sewer
hurrying on to death the wrecks of humanity. In candour, in honesty, say
it.
BERM. Oh! what a head! Indeed, if you continue thus, I assure you that
you will go mad.
LAZ. By the memory of your mother, by the honour of your family, by the
happiness of your children, by the sacred duty of your profession, by
your conscience as an upright man, by your God, by piety, by
compassion----, if you had a daughter would you allow her to marry me?
BERM. To-day? No! (_Wishes to continue._)
LAZ. Enough! nor to-morrow either. Enough--never--thank you. My
sentence! Carmen, Carmen! (_Falls on the sofa._)
BERM. Lazarus--for God’s sake--you did not allow me to finish. Lazarus!
What a creature! Listen to me. I must call. (_Pulls the bell._) He is
losing his wits--Lazarus! (_The bell._) Eh! Here! (_going to the door._)
_Enter_ DOLORES _and_ DON JUAN.
BERM. Señora!
DOL. (_running to him_). Bermudez!
JUAN (_to_ BERMUDEZ). My Lazarus!
DOL. (_to_ BERMUDEZ). My boy!
JUAN. But what is this? Lord, what is this?
LAZ. (_rising_). Nothing. We called--they did not appear. We continued
to call--and you have come. And I called because I wished to introduce
you to my kind friend, Doctor Bermudez. My mother (_introducing her_);
you already know each other. Is it not true that you know each other?
DOL. My son!
_She and_ LAZARUS _embrace_.
LAZ. (_to_ BERMUDEZ). Don’t be surprised. As I was hunting a whole
week--and as we did not see each other on my return--we were embracing.
BERM. It’s natural.
LAZ. My father (_introducing him_). I have already seen my father this
morning, that’s why I don’t embrace him. (JUAN _looks at him
imploringly_.) However, that you may not imagine I love him less than my
mother, I shall embrace him likewise. Father!
JUAN. Lazarus! (_Embracing him._) Closer to me! closer! so! (_To_
DOLORES, _aside_.) You see, Dolores, you see? He has such strength; he
has nearly squeezed the breath out of me. It’s all folly what you have
been telling me.
DOL. Yes--quite true--folly.
JUAN (_to_ BERMUDEZ). What’s this boy suffering from?
BERM. Nothing: in substance, nothing.
JUAN (_to_ DOL.). Are you listening? What a head you have!
LAZ. Make your minds easy. Delicate--slightly delicate. Don’t be cast
down, mother.
DOL. (_caressing him_). Lazarus, my son, my Lazarus!
JUAN (_approaching_ LAZARUS _with envy_). And must I be cast down or
not? Oh, it matters little whether or not I be cast down.
LAZ. Neither must you be down-hearted, father. There is no cause. I am
perfectly well; let Bermudez tell you. And I am going to work for a
while (_with anguish_), because I can do no more (_restraining
himself_)--I can do no more with this idleness, eh? And with the regimen
that you have prescribed for me--and by following your advice--within a
short time you shall see--the resurrection of Lazarus! Good-bye,
Bermudez; my own mother, father and señor--illustrious doctor--note that
phrase--that phrase--the resurrection of Lazarus. Ah! for this Lazarus
there is no resurrection. [_Exit._
JUAN (_to_ BERMUDEZ). Speak, by Christ crucified! I know that it is
nothing--but I wish you to speak. Come, my Lazarus--what? Why does this
woman say such things? Jesus, Jesus, what a woman! You have always been
the same. (_To_ BERMUDEZ.) Don’t speak lightly--these are very important
matters. However, come! let me know, let me know!
BERM. Señor Don Juan, you understand----
DOL. Have you changed your opinion?
BERM. Substantially it remains unchanged.
DOL. My God! my God! (_Throws herself sobbing on a chair._)
BERM. But we must have a little calmness; Señora, for God’s sake.
JUAN. Calm? I should think so; since what you two say is impossible:
then nothing else was required. As if this could do no more than come
down upon a genius like Lazarus--and all in a moment. If it were
I--good, because I--Señor de Bermudez--I may be puffed off any day; but
Lazarus, Lazarus, consider well what you say, for these things are very
important. And they must be thought over deliberately. Very
important--very important indeed.
BERM. You are right, Don Juan. And now, you’ll both excuse me, I am
deeply affected--and I could not co-ordinate two ideas.
JUAN (_aside, to his wife_). Are you listening? He could not co-ordinate
two ideas. I say, I say, why did I trust to him!
BERM. Later on--to-morrow--some other day--I shall have the pleasure of
paying my compliments to you and of seeing Lazarus. Now, permit me to
retire.
DOL. (_rising and hurrying towards him_). But you are not yet going back
to Madrid? No, for God’s sake!
BERM. No, señora. I shall remain here fifteen or twenty days longer.
DOL. Then, come again; come again, I implore you!
JUAN. Yes; come again.
BERM. Yes, señor, I shall come again.
DOL. To-morrow?
JUAN. If you gave a little look in to-night--eh? You could take coffee
with us. I have some sherry----
BERM. To-night I cannot. I shall come to-morrow.
DOL. To-morrow, then, Bermudez. (_Accompanying him._) Save my son!
JUAN. See you to-morrow, Señor de Bermudez. And have a care what you do
with my Lazarus!
BERM. Till to-morrow, then, Señora. (_Pressing her hand._) And my dear
señor.
DOLORES _falls on a chair_: JUAN _walks about with
difficulty, but with an air of great vigour_.
JUAN. This man does not know what he’s talking about. You have now heard
him; he can’t co-ordinate two ideas. How simple we are! What, and do
people lose their talents and lose their heads as one might lose a hat?
Here, I got rid of my hat, and thus got rid of my head? Bah, bah! Idiots
are what they are from infancy. Nor do I say idiots only--fools have
been fools all through life; there is nobody more consistent than a
fool. But as to a man of genius! Oh! Genius! Tut, absurdities of
doctors! He to pronounce judgment on my Lazarus! He who can’t
co-ordinate two ideas--on Lazarus, who is as familiar with the “finality
without end” as he is with the _Our Father_! Come, answer. Am I right?
DOL. Would to God it might be so!
JUAN. But don’t you think it is false--all that that buffoon has told
us?
DOL. (_with desperation_). And if it were true? If it were true? What
then? Then, why was I born? (_Advancing upon_ DON JUAN, _who retreats_.)
My illusions lost through you! My youth blighted through you! My dignity
sneered at through you! After twenty years of sacrifices in order to be
deserving of my Lazarus--good for him! loyal for him! honourable for
him! And to-day? No. You have always been a wretch: but this time you
are right. Impossible! Impossible! God could not let it be so.
JUAN. Well, I have been a wretch--there’s no getting over it. But do not
call to mind all that--and above all, don’t speak of it. Say that you
forgive me--forgive me, Dolores.
DOL. What does it matter to you--my forgiveness?
JUAN. It matters to us both. If you don’t pardon me, and at the same
time God purposes to chastise me, and chastises me in my Lazarus--“He
might have been a genius, here you have in him an idiot.” These things
are very serious. Come come, don’t say that.
DOL. What things you do say! You, too, talk at random. No matter--under
such circumstances. I pardon you with all my heart.
JUAN. Thank you, Dolores. Thus we are more secure.
DOL. (_clinging to him_). But help me to save Lazarus.
JUAN. With my whole soul. Though I had to give up for him all the life
that remains to me.
DOL. Give your life! Ha! what life have you? All the life that God first
granted you, you should give him.
JUAN. Dolores!
DOL. Ah! it’s true. I had pardoned you. I shall not recall my word. But
what are we to do?
JUAN. Take him to Madrid, that the best known physicians may see him.
DOL. Well thought of!
JUAN. And then to Paris. We shall consult all the eminent men.
DOL. Quite so. Then to Germany.
JUAN. And to England. The English know a great deal. Bah! there is
plenty of science dispersed throughout the world.
DOL. Then we shall collect it all for Lazarus.
JUAN. Without fail! All for him! Whatever remains of my fortune for him!
I have squandered much, but I am still rich.
DOL. I have never called you to a reckoning. You have squandered your
own.
JUAN. No, señora: no, señora. It was not mine. I see it now. It belonged
to Lazarus. But Lord! I did not know I was going to have Lazarus.
Dolores, we must save him.
DOL. We hang on to his reason like two creatures in despair, that it may
not fly away. Is it not true? (_Clinging to him._)
JUAN. Like two of the desperate, and like two parents. Is it not so?
(_Pressing her to him._) And we shall save him, eh? Don’t say no; don’t
say no! (_Falls weeping on a sofa._) I have been bad, but without bad
intention. I did not know this. Would that I had been told! Lazarus, my
Lazarus!
DOL. Don’t be distressed. Don’t you see that you will not have energy to
struggle?
JUAN. I’ll not have energy? Ah! you’ll see. Ho! ho! I have no energy!
DOL. I love to see you thus. And believe me that Bermudez exaggerates.
JUAN. He is a fanatic--a buffoon--a madman that can’t co-ordinate two
ideas. Ah, blockhead. (_Shaking his fist._) I don’t know how I keep my
head. My breast is burning. My throat is dry. (_Pulls the bell._)
Teresa! eh! Teresa!
DOL. (_calling_). Teresa! (_Turning to_ JUAN.) What’s the matter?
JUAN. Nothing--nothing.
TERESA _entering_.
TER. Señor?
JUAN. Bring me a glass of sherry. No, a glass of water--water only.
TER. Yes, señor. [_Exit._
JUAN (_walking about_). From this day I have to mortify myself--on bread
and water, like an anchorite--all for Lazarus. Come, is not this to be
put to my credit?
DOL. Yes; but much prudence. Let nobody know anything.
JUAN. Nothing. Our journeys will be journeys of pleasure; artistic
voyages, that Lazarus may see the world and gain instruction. If all
these were false terrors!
DOL. Not a word to anybody.
JUAN. Not to Carmen--say nothing to Carmen.
DOL. Poor Carmen, my poor angel! But you are right. The first is
Lazarus.
JUAN. The first--that’s clear. But that girl does not come, and I am
choking.
_Enter_ TERESA _and_ DON TIMOTEO.
TER. (_announcing, and with the glass of water_). Here is Don Timoteo.
JUAN. Let him come in.
TER. He is already in.
JUAN (_to_ DOLORES). Silence, and let us affect indifference.
DOL. (_aside_). Indifference and gaiety. (_Wiping her eyes._ DON JUAN
_drinks a glass of water_.)
JUAN (_to_ DOLORES). Will you take some? Drink, dear. Be calm! [_Exit_
TERESA.
DOL. Thank you; I am calm now.
TIM. Doña Dolores!
DOL. Friend Don Timoteo!
JUAN. My dear Timoteo! (_Wishing to embrace him._)
TIM. Don’t embrace me. Don’t you see that I have come according to
etiquette? All in black!
DOL. In black! Why?
JUAN. Why?
TIM. Don’t be alarmed; it is not mourning, but etiquette. I come in all
solemnity. Now you shall see. Isn’t Carmen here?
DOL. We went together to hear Mass. She came back with me--and she is
now in my sitting-room with Don Nemesio and with Javier--so merry!
TIM. Then let everybody come here! (DOLORES _rings the bell_.)
Everybody--except Lazarus; he must come afterwards. Ah! solemnity!
solemnity! (_Laughing._)
TER. (_entering_). Señora ...
DOL. Let the Señorita Carmen have the goodness to come here.
TIM. She and all--all. And till they come let no one speak to me.
DOL. (_aside to_ DON JUAN). Don’t you guess?
JUAN (_aside_). Yes. [_A pause._
TIM. Solemn silence! Silence, a precursor of something very grave. Ha!
ha!
_Enter_ CARMEN, NEMESIO, _and_ JAVIER.
CAR. (_to her father_). Did you call me?
TIM. Silence, little one. Don’t you see how grave we all are?
CAR. But what’s the matter?
TIM. (_to his daughter_). You stand beside Dolores.
_A movement among all_: CARMEN _embraces_ DOLORES.
So: that’s well.
DOL. My own daughter!
JUAN (_aside_). God assist me!
NEM. Ah--ha!
JAV. (_to_ NEMESIO). We are having a wedding.
TIM. Silence!--Are we ready? All attention--and every solemnity--for I
am going to begin. Ah! you, Javier, being the youngest man here, shall
go out in haste at the fitting moment to find Lazarus--“Lazarus!
Lazarus!” You understand?--So, so--all very quiet: hanging on my lips.
(_A pause._) Señor Don Juan Mejia--(_with comic solemnity._) My dear
sir?--The devil, I seem as if I were going to write a letter!--Juanito,
you asked me for the hand of Carmen for Lazarus: I have consulted the
girl, she is dying about the boy, and now I bring the girl to the boy.
And I say before all--Let them be married--the devil--let them be
married!--(_with great energy._)--The programme in these
cases--gentlemen, the programme.--The blushing, the weeping, the
smiling, the embracing!
(_All spontaneously go through the instructions._ CARMEN _and_
DOLORES _embrace, and_ DOLORES _weeps passionately_. NEMESIO _and_
JAVIER _laugh while pointing out the groups_. TIMOTEO _and_ NEMESIO
_likewise embrace. Then_ TIMOTEO, _as if recollecting himself,
continues_--)
Javier--go and look for Lazarus--Away, the situation is falling flat!
JAV. I am off--I am off! Lazarus! Lazarus! [_Exit._
CAR. Mother!
DOL. My own daughter--my own daughter! (_Aside._) My God! My God!
TIM. (_to_ DON JUAN). And you say nothing?
JUAN. Why, nothing more was required.
TIM. But he is not coming.
_Re-enter_ JAVIER _and_ LAZARUS; _the latter pale, disordered, and
materially dragged along by the former_.
LAZ. Where are you taking me? Where?
JAV. Come, Man, Come ... To Happiness!
LAZ. What’s this? What do they want with me? Why do they call me?
TIM. _Tableau!_ Carmen is yours! I bring her to you! You are to be
married! (_To_ DON JUAN.) Eh! you father of a cork-tree, say something
to them; I have gone through all my part!
LAZ. Carmen--she--is it true? My Carmen!
DOL. Your Carmen--she is yours.
JUAN. What the devil! She is yours--be happy, and let the world founder!
what do I care for the world!
LAZ. Mine, mine! I may go to her! fold her in my arms! embrace her with
all my soul! drink her in with my eyes! I may if I like?
JUAN. Yes! enough that you say--yes!
LAZ. Oh, the infamy of it! Oh, the treachery! Carmen!
CAR. (_going up to him_). Lazarus!
LAZ. No, keep off! To whom are you coming? You are not to be mine!
Never--never--never!
CAR. He casts me off! He casts me off! I knew it! Mother! mother!
(_Falls into the arms of_ DOLORES.)
DOL. Daughter of my heart!
TIM. My daughter! What have you done? What have you done?
NEM. But I don’t understand.
JAV. I do.
_All hasten to help_ CARMEN.
JUAN. Lazarus--my son!
LAZ. (_embracing his father_). Father--father--you are my father, save
me!
JUAN. Yes, I shall save you--I gave you life!
LAZ. You gave me life! But that’s not enough: give me more life--to
live, to love, to be happy--give me life for my own Carmen--give me more
life, or cursed be the life which you gave me!
END OF ACT II.