+Unseen Pictures.+
[_On the left, warning._]
Look out!
[_The_ +Woman at her Toilet+ _runs away, right._]
+Young Man with Glove.+
[_Looking toward the left._]
We’re safe. ’Tis only the custodian
Of our security!...
[_Leans against wall while_ +Gardien+ _passes across, left to
right._]
St. George, come down
From your high horse and fence!
+St. George.+
[_Unseen._]
Sorry,
Dear boy, but there’s a fine for breaking ranks
In exhibition hours!
[_Murmurs of assent from other unseen pictures._]
+Young Man with Glove.+
Oh, very well!
I’ll take a turn among the Later Dutch,
Or through the Spanish School!
[_Cries of “Stop him! Stop him!”_]
What can I do?
If I play here you all complain that I
Disturb the Holy Families!
+Unseen Pictures.+
[_In succession._]
You do!
+Young Man with Glove.+
[_Whimsically, keeping count._]
See, now! Murillo’s; Rembrandt’s; Raphael’s,
And all the rest!
+St. George.+
At times, dear boy, you act
Just like a silly human being!
+Young Man with Glove.+
[_Protesting._]
Oh,
St. George!
+Several Unseen Pictures.+
’Tis true!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
[_Coming again toward the_ +Young Man+.]
Signore, neighbor, friend,
And, strongest bond, co-Titian. Have a care.
I speak for all in saying that, of all,
Are you the highest note, last cry in art
That’s personal!
+Young Man with Glove.+
[_Striving to be modest about it._]
So commentators say!
And who am I that should contradict!
+A Gruff Voice.+
[_On the left._]
’Tis naught so much to brag of, my young blade!
+Young Man with Glove.+
[_Looking in the direction of the Voice._]
Indeed, Poussin’s Diogenes.... It was
Poussin’s Diogenes, I think, that spoke?
+Deep, Solemn Voice.+
You talk too much for the Salon Carré!
You should be hung among the Moderns!
[_Others murmur, as if this were too severe._]
+Young Man with Glove.+
Oh,
St. Michael! Though you are a Raphael
Touched up a bit, indeed, ’tis said, by--
[_Loud cries of “Order! Order!”_]
+St. George.+
Invidious reference to pedigrees
Is barred!
[_Loud cries of “Hear, Hear!”_]
+Young Man with Glove.+
True. Still I think he should withdraw
The slur of modernism!
+St. Michael.+
I refuse
To enter talking-lists! Sublimest art
Is ever silent! I have spoken!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
Hush!
Provoke him not! Remember, he’s a Saint!
+Young Man with Glove.+
[_Laughing, gracefully yields the point._]
Heaven be thanked, I’m secular! One gets
So much more harmless pleasure out of art!
But, to our muttons. You were saying, what?
Something about my Middle Period!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
Sir, long ago it was constated, you
Express most fully life-in-art to life
That speaks in terms of life, not terms of art!
[_Cries of “Hear, hear!”_]
+St. George.+
That hits the nail where rarely nail is hit
By womenkind!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
My thanks, St. George! ’Tis not
My own, though!... Then, I’m just a bit that way
Myself!
[_General laughter._]
[_To the_ +Young Man+.]
Sublimest heights you may not scale....
+St. Michael.+
No; not by many a league!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
I quite admit
My single-starred estate!
[_General laughter._]
I would not brag,
By that same token, though, am I not, well,
More popular than others I could name
In this collection?
+St. Michael.+
I don’t understand
A word he says what time he tries to talk
St. George’s English.
+St. George.+
Oh, not mine! Echoes
Of text-book, tourist jargon, student slang!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
[_Drawing the_ +Young Man+ _forward._]
Listen. I fear not, as our neighbors do,
Your frolic humor, lifelike charm, may bring
Our cinquecento into disrepute.
’Tis for yourself I plead!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
[_Puzzled._]
You plead for me,
Madonna?
+Woman at her Toilet.+
Aye. And for another!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
Who...?
+Woman at her Toilet.+
A woman!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
Dio mio! Dare I hope...?
[_Advancing toward her._]
+Woman at her Toilet.+
[_Retreating._]
Ah, no, no, no! Misread me not! Oh, who
Are you and I to play at life and love--
To breathe, even, of mysteries that lie
Our shadow-world of canvas, paint, beyond?
+Young Man with a Glove.+
[_Musingly._]
And yet, if only dimly sensed, why not?
+Woman at her Toilet.+
[_Always with increasing feeling._]
O fateful power, poised in bold relief
Against your dusky background, so to seem
Alert into a world of flesh and blood
To spring!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
[_With growing life-quality._]
Yet, for one human hour, why not!
Come, let us forth into the sunlit groves,
Where birds are singing, you and I?
[_Holding arms out toward her._]
+Woman at her Toilet.+
For you
It would be death!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
With you, why not?
+Woman at her Toilet.+
Alas!
Ser Tiziano in another mood
Contrived me! You clean-cut may break away,
Our prison roam at will!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
[_Laughing._]
A fiction! Hark:
Outposts of Renaissance I cannot pass!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
But I only a few steps may achieve.
And, see! the damask how I tear away!
[_Drawing drapery closer about herself._]
+Young Man with a Glove.+
My strength shall draw you, draw you, draw,
All barriers across!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
[_Almost yielding._]
We should be missed!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
What then? “Another scandal in the Louvre!
Two masterpieces missing, raped, no doubt,
By some trans-ocean plutocrat!” While hand
In hand we fare to Italy!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
[_Looking toward the right._]
Oh! The patrol!
[_The two duck behind the bench as the_ +Gardien+ _passes
through, right to left, then rise._]
[_Just then the_ +German Lady+ _enters from the right._]
+Young Man with a Glove.+
Heavens! Here comes the Wunderschöner! Hide!
[_They duck again._]
+German Lady.+
[_Begins, rapturously._]
Ach, wunder....
[_Breaks off, rubs eyes, staring at frame._]
[+Teacher+ _and_ +Class+ _enter from the right, the_ +Youngest
Pupil+ _leading._]
+Youngest Pupil.+
Please, I want another look
At the Young Man with.... Why, he isn’t there!
+Teacher.+
Nonsense! Of course he’s there!
+Class.+
[_Echoing._]
Of course he’s there!
+Youngest Pupil.+
But, look!
+Teacher.+
He must be there! It says so here! In Baedeker!
+German Lady.+
[_Loyally, going to the left._]
Ach, Wunderschön!
+Teacher.+
[_Leading the way back, right._]
Come, come!
+Youngest Pupil.+
[_Lingering, unconvinced._]
He must have just stepped out!
[_The_ +Young Man+ _and the_ +Woman+ _rise from their
hiding-place._]
+Young Man with a Glove.+
So few there are
To whom we bear a real message.... Come!
In native Italy fullness of life
Awaits us! Oh, once more to be where first
We saw the light!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
The light saw us, you mean!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
One time were man and woman we, altho
Till now have I denied it, knew it not!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
Ah, no, no, no!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
Already feel you not
A quickening? A something here?
[_Hand on heart._]
+Woman at her Toilet.+
[_Puts up hands as if to ward off danger._]
Ah, no!
Have pity!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
Come ... to life! Come back to life,
I should have said!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
Heaven, be merciful!
For us there is no life--there never was!
What man and woman sat for us, long since
Are dust, their souls with God!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
Then what are we?
+Woman at her Toilet.+
Poor simulacra only, that reveal,
By grace of art, life to the living, yet
Have none ourselves. Half-lengths--’Tis all we are!--
Below the frame-line we are just inferred--
As Titian would have rendered us, as ’twere,
From waist to toe!--By lifelikeness beguiled,
If life’s forbidden fruit to taste we seek,
We perish!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
Then, what woman meant you now?
+Woman at her Toilet.+
Poor fool adoringly long hours who spends
Before you at her easel!
[_Pointing to_ +Laura’s+ _copy._]
+Young Man with a Glove.+
[_Laughs._]
Oh, ta, ta!
[_Examines copy._]
Ye shades of Titian, what a travesty!
+Woman at her Toilet.+
E’en as the call of life to you and me
To be forever blotted out would mean,
One step across the line, her world from ours
Dividing, for that girl spells madness!
+Young Man with a Glove.+
[_Shocked at the idea._]
Oh!
Though mortals rank a race inferior
To art-creations--
+Woman at her Toilet.+