rth! LEPORELLO Well, so am I. OTTAVIO You don't expect me to believe you, do you? LEPORELLO Why not? OTTAVIO It is a lie! a fantasy! True gentlemen never become valets! LEPORELLO I was the first one, then. OTTAVIO This is absurd. You are not entering that room! LEPORELLO I will, if need be. What's it to you? OTTAVIO She is my sister, man! LEPORELLO Now, stop provoking me. Your protestations Are most annoying. Entering those rooms Was hardly my concern a flash ago; With your effrontery and lack of wit You have insulted me; your arrogance Is out of place and screamingly uncouth. I almost feel I must. OTTAVIO I will defend her. LEPORELLO Against what, pray? OTTAVIO Your vile intentions, lecher. Leporello rises. Ottavio draws his sword. LEPORELLO My dear Ottavio, you're a hypocrite, A coward, and a fool. It never crossed Your warped mind to defend your precious sister Against her suitor, who was set to marry The girl without obtaining her consent; Nor did you draw when, some six hours ago A well-known libertine seduced her grossly, Taking away her honor and good name. You are incensed, however, when a man Of whose intentions you're quite ignorant, Wishes to pass into your sister's bedroom. You draw because you think that certain kinds Of liberties towards gentle womenfolk Are quite permissible to gentlemen, And yet taboo to plebeians; splendid thinking! Therefore, you are a hypocrite. A coward You are because, while never venturing To measure swords with a notorious fencer You wish to strike a commoner. A fool Because the one whom you would think quite common Is in reality a seasoned swordsman, An old, well-practiced duelist whose blade Is second only to his former master's. OTTAVIO Fine, then! I'll die defending her, that's all. LEPORELLO You'll get yourself most hideously bruised For nothing, I assure you. OTTAVIO Wretch! On guard! LEPORELLO You are quite worthy of the gentlefolk; I give you that; you're just as vain as they, And just as quarrelsome. A mere rebuff - And here you wish to vent your silly anger On someone unconnected with the matter, Pretending all the while that it's your sister On whose behalf you're acting. Ottavio makes an impatient gesture and turns around, vexed. He sheathes his sword. LEPORELLO That's better, sir. OTTAVIO I go. LEPORELLO Far? OTTAVIO One last look At Dona Anna; then - Seville; the sea! They look at each other. Ottavio nods, leaves quickly. LEPORELLO Deuce take the idiot! Now I'm angry. Good! My fear is gone. The statue? Let it come And tell me I'm the murderer. What then? We'll see! But I must never hide again. Enough of that! I've failed to find Don Juan, though. His presence always reassures me so. Enter the Bag Lady. THE BAG LADY Hello there, charmer! Spare some change? LEPORELLO (noticing her) Huh? What? THE BAG LADY Just a few coins. Faith, you must help the needy. LEPORELLO Behind on rent? THE BAG LADY Not in the way you think. LEPORELLO I'm out of change just now. Let someone else Resolve your fiscal problems for you. THE BAG LADY Man, You'd be much kinder if you knew.... LEPORELLO Indeed I am as kind as my poor health permits. Good evening, Ma'am. He puts on his cloak, turns to the exit door. THE BAG LADY You're in a hurry, charmer. Well! I assure you I could be of service To you. Your name is Leporello; right? LEPORELLO It is; what then? THE BAG LADY Oh, don't be testy, dear. In my extensive roaming, I've acquired A skill or two which other folks would give An awful lot to have at their disposal. LEPORELLO Such as? THE BAG LADY Well, I could show you what the future Has, in all likelihood, in store for those Who have some influence upon your life. LEPORELLO Oh, really? Do so. Here's a golden ducat. The lights fade somewhat. Don Juan, dressed as a monk, candle in hand, crosses the stage slowly and exits. THE BAG LADY Your master's lot. He is a monk, you see. Don Diego, in a stately costume, with an air of extreme importance, crosses the stage and exits. THE BAG LADY There's Don Diego - an important man, A statesman and a secret councilor. Conchita, in a luxurious white dress, crosses the stage and exits. THE BAG LADY Your bride. LEPORELLO My bride? The lights snap on to full brightness. THE BAG LADY Oh, no! It's wrong! It's wrong! You cannot have her! She's a fallen woman! LEPORELLO But I've been told that I.... THE BAG LADY I know! I know! Well, am I not a fallen woman also? Why don't you marry me instead? Look, man, I may look hideous - I have these wrinkles, And missing teeth and all; but, though I lost Some of my former beauty in my face, I have retained some in my body. Look, I'll show you. LEPORELLO Spare me, woman. THE BAG LADY You don't want me? She laughs drily. Leporello springs to his feet, turns his back to her. THE BAG LADY You're right, you know. One cannot well reverse Revenge when it's been much too long in brewing. When, on that fateful night, your handsome master Entered my bedroom, in our throes of love I knew he had not murdered Don Rodrigo. He was too gentle then to overpow'r A seasoned soldier. You're the murderer! Rodrigo promised me he would arrange For me my fortune after the campaign. Infatuation had him in its grip; He would have scorned the Holy Inquisition, Defied the Pope himself; and left his wife, And married me! After his death, they came - The bailiffs - and the inn was seized; and I Thereafter was deprived of everything. For fifteen years, a single thought I've cherished, A single dream forced my poor broken heart To beat; I would have died a thousand times Of hunger, thirst, disease, cold, beatings, scorn Had I not carried in my mind my vision Of sweet revenge upon my enemy! The hour has come! She produces from her rags a sizable dagger and raises it, aiming at Leporello's back. Die, wicked creature! Die! Leporello turns sharply, dagger in hand; it is evident he has been all along aware of the lady's intentions. But the brave avenger cannot move. The dagger falls from her hand. THE BAG LADY Ten seconds more! Ah, Satan! You've betrayed me! She falls and dies. Leporello replaces his own dagger in its sheath, comes over to the corpse, picks up the blade, examines it. LEPORELLO Atonement! Here's my chance. Be brave, Conchita. He drops the dagger and enters the guest rooms. Curtain. SCENE SIX Dona Anna's castle. Dona Anna is pacing up and down the stage. Now and then she casts a glance at the unsealed scroll on the table. It is evident that she has already read it, perhaps more than once. There is a sizable dagger on the table, under the portrait of Don Rodrigo. A tower clock off-stage strikes eight. DONA ANNA It's evening. Why am I so agitated? So restless? He has changed. He has grown vulgar. Or has he? These days, how does one distinguish Between vulgarity and passion? Where Is the fine line that ought to separate Harassment from affection? Goodness gracious! Anna, my dear, what are you thinking of? What is this flimsy hesitation for? Destroy the brazen note and bolt the door! She sits down, picks up the scroll. Presently, she begins to read, frowning. DON JUAN'S VOICE (in the loudspeaker) A shining blade, quite unexpected, Surged through my night. Dead feelings ventured, resurrected, Into the light. That blazing stripe of dawn! Life, being To all intents A senseless corpse, now started seeing And making sense. Of scarlet silk, of Eastern fashions That never fade, Of Northern mists and Southern passions My love is made. One's set to rip one's song apart, lest It should get free. Chaste Anna, one would be quite heartless To laugh at me. A thousand grim and dismal forces That won't allow A moment's rest my poor resources Oppose me now. In this atrocious game, whose players Had marked their man, Who answered whose unuttered prayers, then, Sweet Ann? I've failed to recognize the pattern And, come what may, I'm looking for my long-lost lantern To light the way. Of all the winding paths, some deadly, Some much longed-for, Which was the one that might have lead me To Anna's door? She, whose half-hearted, mild confessions Were salt and wine; Whose fragile hand throughout our session Would not touch mine. Most frigid ladies of the jury: Look if you must. My bitter tears of helpless fury And love. And lust. The eye of chance, sterile and glassy Silenced my groan. I never kissed in tender passing Her collar bone. My cheek was never pressed, flushed, scorching, Against her thigh. Into her knee I breathed no tortured, Half-sobbing sigh. Of lust we never drank our lavish And fervent dose. My tongue left totally unravished Her gentle toes. I, who, alas, was never granted A say in this, Upon her instep never planted An eager kiss. The tune twangs, and the vision lingers In queer accord; Her palms and wrists and perfect fingers Are unexplored. We never braved, entwined and pining, The sweeping tide. She never thrashed, eyes damp and shining With me inside. Chaste Ann! whose nipples never hardened Against my chest; To whose half-parted lips mine, ardent, I never pressed, Who so reluctantly denied me Her cloudy charms; Who rested neither just beside me, Nor in my arms. The dirk of Chance is cold and steady; Yes - why pretend? - Much harder hearts than mine have dreaded Its stinging end. For all on earth that is as gentle As you are fine, - Real, divine, or transcendental: Sweet love, be mine. A pause. A FEMALE VOICE OFF-STAGE Don Pedro, Madam. DONA ANNA Show him in. Some amiable laughter off stage; Don Juan enters, turns to the maid, says, DON JUAN My pleasure. (to Dona Anna) Good evening, Dona Anna. DONA ANNA Pray come in. DON JUAN I'll only be a moment. DONA ANNA I should hope so. Seducers do not take rejection lightly. It hurts their pride. DON JUAN You are too kind, Sesora. DONA ANNA Won't you sit down? DON JUAN I might as well; I thank you. He sits. A pause. DONA ANNA And so? DON JUAN I beg your pardon for the crude, Villainous way I spoke to you; it was Unworthy of my feeling towards you. DONA ANNA Feeling? DON JUAN Come, Anna - we're no longer frantic children Drunk on the springtime air. We've had our share Of blunders and confusion. Youth will make A mess of words and meanings; connotations Change on a whim. Not so with us. We know The full weight of each word we choose to utter, The entire significance of views and notions, The complete meaning of our sentiments. DONA ANNA Since yesterday? DON JUAN I fail to see.... DONA ANNA I merely Allude to the unhappy fact that your Maturity was rather long in coming. DON JUAN Oh yes, reproach me - you have every right To do so. DONA ANNA Do I? With regard to me, Except for yesterday, your conduct, sir, Has been beyond reproach. For, after all, Back when I was young, gullible, and weak, Your hasty and mysterious departure Helped save my honor. DON JUAN Well, my consolation, Is - lives and heart aches notwithstanding - That, upon leaving you a second time, I leave you with your honor still intact. If you do love me, though.... DONA ANNA Love you? DON JUAN My word! Why don't we stop pretending! Love me, yes. DONA ANNA I don't remember making a confession To that effect. DON JUAN So much the worse. However, The fifteen years of utter solitude Are proof enough. DONA ANNA I'm happy that you think So highly of yourself, Don Pedro. Pray Continue your fine speech. DON JUAN I've come to say Farewell. Let's part as friends. DONA ANNA You're leaving, then. DON JUAN Forever, Dona Anna. DONA ANNA And that poem? DON JUAN A mere nostalgic message from the past, An echo of that other man, much younger, Much more sincere - although far less in love Than the contemporary version. Burn it. DONA ANNA Farewell, then. DON JUAN Yes, farewell. (he stands) Just one thing more. Of all the subtle, intricate disguises, Of masks and veils, youth is the subtlest one. Only when age removes it from one's face Can its true beauty be discerned. I say I've never seen, nor will I see again Features quite so appealing as yours are. If there's a second woman in the world Resembling you in beauty, heart, and merit - I wish her, above all, that someone might Love her as much as I love you. And now, Before I leave, I must demand an answer. Oh, no! Not that I'm nursing silly hopes, Or deem myself deserving of the honor; I am a stickler, though, for art and form; A wretched pedant who won't see the door Unless it's shown him. Will you marry me? DONA ANNA Oh, no. Of course not. A pause. DON JUAN No? DONA ANNA No. DON JUAN And.... why not? DONA ANNA After my husband's death, in morbid anguish, I made myself two vital promises. One was that I would find and bring to trial His murderer. The other, that I'd never Marry again someone I did not love. DON JUAN Sesora, please forgive me. I must go. Your reasons are commendable indeed; Yours is the mind, then, of a true logician, Your wisdom does transcend your age and beauty. Farewell, Sesora. DONA ANNA You're so quick to leave! DON JUAN You'd understand, if you harbored for me A tenth of the mad passion that is now Tearing my chest. DONA ANNA Still, you are impolite. I did not say I wanted you to go Just yet. DON JUAN What more is there to say or do? Please, Dona Anna. DONA ANNA Grace this hapless widow With but another minute of your time. I'd like to ask you something. DON JUAN (impatiently) Ask it then. Be quick! DONA ANNA Tell me, Sesor, what is your name? DON JUAN Don Pedro. DONA ANNA No; the real one. DON JUAN But why? DONA ANNA Because I need to know. DON JUAN I cannot tell you. What good would knowing it do you? It's been Mixed up in thousands of unpleasant matters. I am a monster, really. I'm a beast, A brute, a villain, and a libertine. DONA ANNA At least you have admitted that Don Pedro Is a fictitious person. DON JUAN Bless his heart! He wrote some poems, leaving me to suffer The consequences. Ha! In all these years The rascal hasn't aged a day. What luck! He served me well and long; at last, he blundered, Exposed his master and betrayed his craft By seeking substance and gratification Where none was due. Fictitious characters Must not expect a genuine reward. DONA ANNA Your name, then? DON JUAN Why - why do you want to know? You have refused. How can it matter now What name I bear? DONA ANNA I want to know the truth. DON JUAN But why? DONA ANNA I want to hear it from your lips. DON JUAN Ah, Dona Anna! Torture me no more! You don't know what you're asking. Let me be. DONA ANNA Your name! DON JUAN Don Juan. Dona Anna grabs the dagger from the table, approaches him. He does not move. DONA ANNA At last! DON JUAN (indifferently) Why, that's a dagger. Dona Anna places it against his throat. DONA ANNA Your death. DON JUAN Why, do it, Dona Anna! Do it! DONA ANNA For all these years of my unceasing torture, For all you've caused me to endure, for this Repugnant place; the dreams defiled and shattered, The guilt that to this day gnaws at my heart, The unfulfilled abominable passion, The tears, the sobs, the wounds, the sleepless nights, For all this, you must die! DON JUAN Then do it! Do it! A pause. She drops the knife on the floor and walks away. He sinks into his chair. A very long, painful pause. They are not looking at each other. Presently, she turns, approaches him, and kisses him on the lips. She walks away again and stands at the right wing, not looking at him. He continues sitting, petrified. DONA ANNA One does look younger in a wedding dress. A pause. DON JUAN (smiling tentatively) A pair of rings. DONA ANNA A veil. DON JUAN A priest. DONA ANNA A carriage. DON JUAN Seville. DONA ANNA Or Italy. DON JUAN Or France. DONA ANNA Or Sweden. Heavy stomping off stage. DON JUAN What's that? The stomping is louder. DON JUAN What's that?!! The Statue! DONA ANNA Juan! The lights fade. A spotlight on Don Juan. He clutches his head, then straightens abruptly, rapidly drawing his sword. The stomping is deafening now. Don Juan drops the sword, clutches his head again. Don Diego is in the room - a spotlight on him. He is holding a dagger in his hand. Abruptly, silence. DON DIEGO I pulled this dagger from Rodrigo's chest. Fresh blood on it. The first blow killed a man. The second one preserves a woman's virtue. He makes as if to stab Don Juan. The latter does not move. Don Diego throws the dagger at Don Juan's feet, walks out stage-left. Lights. Don Juan stares at the dagger, then lifts his gaze and sees Dona Anna, prostrate, motionless. He rushes to her, falls on his knees. DON JUAN Sweet Anna, rise! Dear angel, I repent! Oh, don't be silent! Tell me that you love me! The lights are dimmed. Two monks walk in slowly, carrying candles. One of them has a spare cloak, with a hood. A pause. Don Juan rises slowly, takes the cloak from him. His sword suddenly slips out of his shoulder belt, falling on the floor. He stands motionless for a while. Presently, he puts on the cloak, takes the candle from one of the monks. Curtain. THE END ??