3507 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES A PLAY IN ONE ACT I by Essex Dane THE WASP WALTER H. BAKER CO.. BOSTON Publishers Oh, Kay! By Adam Applebud A Farce Comedy in Three Acts interlarded with mystery and thrills. 6m., 5w. Three of the male characters have little to do. One easy interior. Plays a full evening. Here is another corking play by the author of BE AN OPTIMIST which will make as big a hit as that has. It will be fun to watch it, fun to act it and fun to rehearse it. It s a sort of mystery play with something doing every minute in the way of thrills, surprises and laughs. There are not any dead bodies falling out of closets and there are no gorillas, bats, spiders or other repulsive things running around but there s plenty of excitement and strange things happen before your eyes. "Gramp" with his fliwer and its never ending accessories and "Gram" with her habit of trying every patent medicine on the market are a couple of comedy roles which will furnish a couple of hundred laughs. Kay Millis, the girl detective, is a strong part calling for good acting while Art and Edith are juvenile parts of much appeal. Then there are other good parts and as the plot moves all are enmeshed in the "tangled threads of mystery." Oh, yes, we must mention the Black Terror himself, who is the cause of all the trouble. Can it be . . . ? Do you suppose . . . ? He is . . . .? But the secret must be kept. If you have pleased audiences before you will certainly retain their good will by offering them OH. KAY! THE PLAYERS Edith Whitman. Evelyn Whitman, her mother. Arthur Whitman, her brother. Captain George Whitman, her father. "Gram." Pembroke. Alice Borden. The "Black Terror." "Gramp" Pembroke. Jim Hayes. Kay Millis, of the Millis Detective Agency. Fred Alden. The entire action of the play takes place in the living-room of the Whitmans in the course of one evening. A few minutes elapse between Acts I and II. Acts II and III are continuous. ROYALTY ONLY TEN DOLLARS Each Amateur Performance Books Thirty-Five Cents Each WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY 41 Winter Street, Boston, Mass. THE WASP A Play in One Act By ESSEX DANE Author of " Let It Go At That" " The Other Side of the Door," " Happy Returns," " The Veil Lifts," "A Toy Tragedy" " When the Whirlwind Blows," "A Serpent s Tooth," " Wrong Numbers," " Fleurette and Com pany," " Cul-De-Sac," "The Wooden Leg," " Workers At the Looms" etc. BOSTON WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY PUBLISHERS The Wasp CHARACTERS GENERAL PETER GRETCHEFF. LIEUT. SERGEITCH, his aide. MLLE. IRMA MELIPOFF. SCENE. A deserted inn, on the road to Finsk, a village in N. E. Siberia. TIME. Just after the assassination of the Czar. Copyright, 1921, by Essex Dane. [42] ?s RIGHTS RESERVED " THE WASP " is fully protected by copyright, and all rights are reserved. Permission to act, read pub licly or to make any use of it must be obtained from WAITER H. BAKER COMPANY, 41 Winter Street, Bos ton, Mass. It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of five dollars ($5.00) for each perform ance, payable to WAITER H. BAKER COMPANY one week before the date when the play is given. Professional rates quoted on application. Whenever the play is produced, the following no tice must appear on all programs, printing and ad vertising for the play: "Produced by special ar rangement with the WAI/TER H. BAKER COMPANY, of Boston, Mass." THE WASP from the open door of the kitchen, n. u. E. After a few seconds, the handle of the door, R. c., is rattled slightly, then silence. In a moment it is again turned audibly, then the door is slowly opened about an inch, where it remains. A pause. Then, very slowly, the door opens to about six inches, and stops. A hand comes in sight. It remains stationary. Then the hand creeps round the edge of the door. After another pause, in the small open slit of the doorway, the figure and face of a man appear, topped by the heavy Hussian fur cap. He remains motionless a moment, then, still cautiously, the door slides open just wide enough to admit of the man s being able to glance round the side of the room disclosed by the narrow opening of the door. His eyes move from side to side as if searching for some thing. Then he opens the door wider. After a swift glance of examination of the entire room, seeing all is clear, he comes in, shuts the door, gives a little sigh of relief, notices cur tains at window are open, and goes orer to close them. There is a sudden noise from the kitchen, R. u. E. He starts nervously, and calls out.) GENERAL (staccato). Who s there? MAN S VOICE. It s I, General. (Reassured, the GENERAL turns back to window, and closes the curtains. He comes down into the room. He is a distinguished-looking man with gray hair, anywhere between fifty and [44] THE WASP sixty. He is evidently a " personage." He is dressed in military clothes. He takes off his greatcoat and fur cap and throws them on a chair. LIEUT. SERGEITCH enters from the kitchen, carrying a valise, which he sets on the small table above the stove.) LIEUTENANT. I ll have things ship-shape in a moment. Your Excellency is surely safe here. GEN. Yes. LIEUT, (taking various things from the valise and disposing them as he talks). This is the inn they spoke of belonging to a fellow who was killed in the fighting yesterday. GEN. The place is empty? LIEUT. Bare of everj^thing, and poor as the twelve disciples. The ashes in the stove were warm, and I found wood. (Significantly.) You ve heard, General ? GEN. I ve heard. LIEUT. Lieutenant Sobreff told me, before he rode off to Litzk, in search of rations. GEN. And he overheard it at the railway, from the telegraph operator. He listened to the tick of the code. LIEUT. It s terrible! GEN. Terrible for me, for us. LIEUT. We re off the main road here. It s a good hiding-place ! If we only had fifteen or twenty men, we could risk the journey; but without them GEN. Sobreff may pick up some of our scattered men at Litzk. Did he telephone you? [45] THE WASP LIEUT. Bad news, Excellency! He had arrived there and had sent off your despatches, but had been unable to get food supplies. The town was in an uproar. GEN. What time was it when he telephoned? LIEUT. Four, and it s now 9: 30. (A pause.) GEN. If they got him, it can t make any differ ence. They can t make head or tail of our cipher. (He goes to window, and looks ^through the cur tains.) Eternal snow of Siberia! Wonder what s happened to him! The news of the Czar s death can t be publicly known yet! LIEUT. Lieutenant Sobreff may have met with an accident. GEN. You d better take my horse and cover the ground yourself. LIEUT. Pardon, Excellency; it s not as if there were anyone to leave in charge GEN. Pm here! LIEUT. Exactly. You re here alone. GEN. Isn t that enough? LIEUT. No, General. Not at this moment ! Pardon me, Excellency, I don t intend to take any chances. GEN. Eh? LIEUT. To-day, plain murder will be called " justice of God." The Anarchists don t forget your two years as Minister of Police. GEN. (with a grim chuckle). We smoked the wasps out ! LIEUT. Russia s full of wasps. You re one of the first they d strike at. GEN. Strange! I m living, after years of [46] THE WASP threats, while " The Little Father of His People " lies to-night in some nameless " cachotte." LIEUT. It s the Wasps hour. GEX. All the more reason you should pick up some of our men. I m safer in this dog-hole than in any of the Imperial palaces, to-night ! LIEUT. But at daylight, Excellency GEN. (striking his fist on the table). No! I don t intend that poor devil, Sobreff, shall be left to mob-mercies, or lie somewhere on the road, to be eaten by wolves. (He takes out a revolver from his R. pocket and lays it down on the table by which he is stand ing.) LIEUT. I beg you to consider GEN. (pointing to door). Lieutenant. (LIEUT. SERGEITCH salutes. The GENERAL sits.) Before you go, be a good fellow, and help me off with these. (He points to his heavy riding-boots.) I m dog- tired. (The LIEUTENANT does so, substituting some old slippers which he took from the valise.) Six teen hours in the saddle, at my age. (He gives a sigh of satisfaction, and picks up a worn little vol ume SERGEITCH has laid on the table, and looks af fectionately at it. The LIEUTENANT goes to door. GENERAL, with a sudden thought.) Wait. (Takes out his watch.) Ride as far as the telegraph sta tion first. Possibly you can pick up something or somebody over the wires. If you do, get them to help you search the roads. (Puts his watch away.) That ll do. LIEUT. Under protest, Excellency! [47] THE WASP GEN. Under protest, Lieutenant. I m a full- grown boy, and don t need a wet-nurse! (As the LIEUTENANT opens the door.) You needn t delay unnecessarily. LIEUT. No, Excellency. It s a three hours job, but I ll ride like the devil. (He salutes and goes out. The GENERAL goes to the door, and fastens it after him. It has an old-fashioned wooden bar, which he drops into place. He then looks round the room, sees door is open leading to kitchen, crosses and closes it. Then he goes over to the samovar. He is about to pour out some tea ichcn there is a faint sound of horses hoofs, which recede in the distance. He puts down cup absently, and crosses to stove. He looks up and gazes at the portrait of the Czar. Then he pulls from his pocket a crumpled telegram, and reads aloud. ) GEN. "At 11:30 last night, the Czar Nicholas was killed by his guards. Leaders swear other as sassinations shall follow." (He looks at the Czar s face, glances furtively round the room, over his shoulders, then, quietly turns the face of the picture to the wall. He takes up his revolver from the small table and puts it in his pocke,t. As he does so he sees the little worn volume lying on the table; he picks it up lovingly, and walks over to table, L. c., fingering the leaves. As he walks, the kitchen door slowly swings wide open. He turns up the flame of the lamp that hangs over table, hardly tak- [48] THE WASP ing his eyes off the booh. Then gets out his ciga rette case, lights one, and lays case and matches down on upper end of table. As he does it, his eyes come in line zcith the wide-open kitchen door. He stops dead, his mouth open, and stares at ,the door. For a second he keeps his position, then he rises, nervously.) I thought I shut that door! (He goes toward door. Half-way, he stops, stands look ing toward it, thinking.) I did shut that door. (Quickly he takes out revolver, and goes over to door, stepping softly. He goes off into kitchen. The bright light from the kitchen sends his shadow, sharply defined, behind him, on the floor of the room, although he is out of sight. He calls sharply.) Who s there? (He waits; no answer; he comes back into room.) Queer! (He then ex amines the latch of the kitchen door, closes door, and watches it. Nothing happens. Then he stamps once or twice on the flooring, when the door slowly swings open, as before. The GENERAL gives a relieved grunt.) H m! That s all. Defective latch. (He closes door, puts his revolver back in his pocket, then wipes his forehead with his handker chief. He crosses to the stove, glances up at the picture with its face to the wall, and says.) Won der what the brutes have done with him " it "/ (He shivers slightly. As he returns to table, L. c., there is a sound of sleigh-bells a long distance away. Stops and listens.) There s a sleigh somewhere out on the road. (He picks up his book and stands lis tening to the bells.) Wind s in the direction of Finsk. (He tries to read, one hand in his revolver pocket, but his mind is evidently not on his book as I 49] THE WASP before. He looks up with a start, and says abruptly.} Those bells are coming nearer. (He stands, listening intently, a nervous, haunted look, peculiar to him, on his face. The irregu lar sound of the bells comes nearer, then stops with a jangle. He waits, tcnsclij. After a second there is a knocking on the outer door not loud, but insistent. He does not move. The knocking is repeated. He goes to window and tries to peer between the curtains. Then, revolver in hand, he goes to door, u. c., which he opens. Another knock on the door beyond, then a clear alto voice, indeterminately sexless, rings out.) i \\Koolr\ji VOICE (off stage)^ * Mlrfufk ! Who lives here? (The GENERAL glances round the room swiftly, as if numbering the possibilities in case of attack.) - hrts-to. Open vm;r (i;x>r! (He stands irresolute, then, with a sudden effort of will, he takes the bar off the door and opens it, his revolver ready. A figure in a long coat stands outside, muffled to the ears. It wears a fur cap.) ^-- <-?-*- wuu- i \ - GEN T . (sharpli/Y? Your name, and business! VOICE. An officer ! Oh, what a relief ! GEN. (starting). A woman! (Sharply, as be fore.) Where are the others? Who are you? What s your business? MEIJPOFF. There s no one else. I m alone. GEN. Your name? [50] THE WASP MEL. Irma Melipoff travelling from Litova. GEN. Show jour papers. MEL. (helplessly). Papers? I m running away! They re rioting at Litova. GEN. Rioting? MEL. It broke out when the news of the Czar s death arrived. They re killing people in the streets. GEN. (half to himself). Already! MEL. Didn t you hear the bells of my droshky? I was afraid. I didn t know what people might live here. GEN. (looks at her suspiciously). What were you doing at Litova? MEL. My father was a grain merchant. He died last month. I ve been living there alone. I m taking refuge with relatives at Litzk. GEN. (indicating with his head). Your driver? MEL. I drove myself. I had to. They re shooting down women and children, ioo.ff^ doar-jmftt-s as if faint, and looks at him helplessly.) GEN. (shortly). Corne in. (He watches hcr-as&ke moves a ute^p or two-into room?) MEL. (in a tone of relief). Thank you. (The .? a swift look up and dow-n,- outside, bars -door. 1 found a droshky. The driver had fallen off his seat, shot dead, and I made my escape. I thought I knew the road. I saw this place. I fancied there was a gleam of red THE WASP from the chimney. I took a chance. I d no idea where I was GEN. (grimly). No woman has a bump of loca tion. MEL. Oil, it s a relief to find a human being, in stead of stupid peasants! GEN. Are all peasants stupid? MEL. Yes, fools, or brutes. ^(She has taken off her cloak and thrown it on chair. She is wcll- dressed in travelling suit, with handsome furs, a stole, -which she throws off, but retains her big muff, which is slung by a cord over her shoulders. A woman of strong personality, but not devoid of charm.J\ My hands are frozen. f (She thrusts them in her muff.) GEN. (indicating). Warm yourself. (She goes over to stove, and kneels in front of it. GENERAL jerks his head towards door.) What about the droshky ? MEL. I fastened it. I m used to horses. I had to drive myself. (Warming her hands.) What times ! What terrible times ! GEN. (thinking his own line of thoughts). Who brought the news? MEL. (looking round). Of the assassination of the Czar? GEN. Who brought the news to, what is it, Litova? MEL. I think it was the soldiers. GEN. (turning sharply). Soldiers? What sol diers? [52] THE WASP MEL. A few who rode in last night. GEN. Ah! MEL. At first, the people were awed and fright ened. Then, the bolder spirits, the socialist ele ment, found their voices and told the people the reign of tyrants was over. (Looking up.) Do you believe that ? GEN. (dryly). Depends whom you call the tyrants. MEL. They shouted " Freedom had come ! " They d only to reach out their hands and take it. GEN. I know the stuff, the blackguards ! MEL. That was the beginning. Quarrels started. They sprang up, like little fires, every where, at once. The soldiers sided with the peas ants ; there were shots. A lieutenant tried to stop them, and they, they GEN. (excited). Who was he? Do you know the lieutenant s name? MEL. There was no time to learn his name. He was dead, quite dead, when they d done -with him. {She sluvers.) GEN. The beasts! MEL. Yes, beasts, that s the name for them, isn t it ! That s what they ve been taught they are. Why blame them for realizing it? Holy Russia! (She laughs a little bitter laugh. She rises and goes to table L. c.) There s no heat in that stove. GEN. (going to table R.). There s tea in the samovar. Sorry there is no food. My aide has ridden over to Litzk for what he can get. He ll [53] THE WASP be back, God knows when! (Busy at samovar.) By midnight, or perhaps, never. You can t tell, in these days. (She looks across at him, sitting with her hands in her muff.) MEL. It s strange, to find a man like you, alone, in this queer hole ! GEN. Nothing s strange, in Russia, to-day. (He brings tea over to her, handing it to her with his left hand.) You said your name was Melipoff? MEL. Yes. Irma Melipoff. M \ \C \ - (The GENERAL crosses back of table, hands in pockets, looking down at her.) GEN. There was a celebrated violinist of that name, years ago. MEL. (sipping her tea). Yes? GEN. Imperial Court violinist, she was, for some years. Not by any chance, (He looks keenly at her.) no relation I suppose? MEL. I never saw her. (A tiny pause.) GEN. If you had seen her, you d have seen some thing that surprised you. You re rather like her. MEL. Yes? (Sipping her tea.) GEN. That s what made me ask. Jf*^ (He lias played this scene with his hand m hid /< T o/rrr fHH krt. i/rubablif front habit. She glqncrx at Jiis Inind, tlicn iwr tea-stirfer drays to the floor. The GENERAL stoops and hands [54] THE WASP it to her, without removing his hand from his a. pocket.) tJ MEL. (taking it)" , Thanks. Are you left- handed? GEN. No. Why? MEL. You picked that up with your left hand. GEN. Oh, yes. I m so accustomed to keep my hand on, in my pocket, force of habit. That s all. (He looks at her.) Yes, you re certainly like her, especially the profile. MEL. The likeness is only skin deep. There s no affinity between me and any Court parasite. GEN. Oh ho! You have decided views. I m afraid you re not a loyalist. MEL. (disdainfully). I m not an Imperialist. GEN. So the poison has infected your little home town, eh? Do the ladies of Litova talk politics? MEL. Who doesn t, these days? (Sets down cup.) T-kat a wai inett" me ! You asked my name; you haven t told me your own. GEN. A name means nothing. MEL. Oh, we see the journals in Litova. GEN. (starting). Eh? MEL. (coolly). And you re remarkably like a face I ve seen in the journals, I can t think whose. GEN. (flattered). The devil! MEL. I wonder how you come to be here. (Looks at his uniform.) I think you re a person of importance. GEN. You flatter me. MEL. One can alwavs tell. There s a some- f 55 ] THE WASP thing. Alone, in a queer deserted inn, with not a living soul ! It almost looks as if you were GEN. Yes? MEL. Hiding. Running away, too, like me. GEN. Oh, come! MEL. It wouldn t be surprising, seeing what s happened. You militarists must be shaking in your shoes. GEN. It s best not to question anyone, in days like these. Now you, you drift in here with a story, I accepted your story (She darts a little sicift look at him.) MEL. You have given me none to doubt. Not even a name! (She looks at him, and waits.) GEN. (chuckles). Your interest flatters me. MEL. (her eyes on him). You evidently have good reason for saving nothing. I wonder what it is! GEN. Guess anything you like. MEL. You re an officer of high rank, ip#-0 -vait. Officers of high rank don t travel alone. You re anxious not to be discovered here. The windows are barred, and curtains drawn. When you opened the door, there was a look of, oh, not fear; you re not the man to show fear, but a sort of haunted look, a premonition. GEN. You think fast ! Are all the ladies of Litova like you? MEL. It was no news to you, when I spoke of the assassination of him. That occurred last night ; therefore, you have not been here long. GEN. I take off rnv hat to the ladies of Litova! [56] THE WASP MEL. The news has affected jour nerves. That s why you can t bear the sight of that picture you turned to the wall. (Nodding towards it with her head.) It is the face of the victim of the assas sination that has shaken all Russia. (The GEN ERAL starts, and looks from her to the picture.) Oh, there s nothing wonderful in that. In every peasant s house, in these parts, there is a portrait of the Czar and in every house that portrait hangs over the stove. GEN. Go on. MEL. You ve been saying to yourself " Others will follow. When will it be my turn? " GEN. The terrible thing that happened last night is the beginning of God knows what chaos! MEL. (under her breath). God pity Russia! GEN. God pity her, indeed! Whatever she has suffered under Imperialist rule is nothing to what is coming to her from her own blind hands ! MEL. Ah, you ve begun to think, haven t you ! You who didn t know there was such a thing as fear, you re afraid. For the first time in your life, you re afraid, eh? GEN. I m sorry to disappoint you, my dear lad} . But a man who has lived as I have, who has eaten, drunk, slept, in the very shadow of Death, for years, loses the sensation at last. Fear? Why, I ve been married to Fear. She s the only wife I ve had. I ve been married to her so many years, she can no longer give me a thrill ! MEL. What have you lived in fear of? GEN. (gravely, after a brief pause). Assassina tion ! Death from a blue sky. A hand, coming out [57] THE WASP of nowhere and stabbing, suddenly, in the back. An explosion, an agony, and Eternity! MEL. Your conscience must be very guilty to incur hatred like that ! GEN. Nothing worse than that I have had power to punish crime, and used it. I ve lived for years under threat of murder. I ve felt its breath on my neck, and been afraid to turn my head lest I should see should see (His voice has dropped almost to a whisper, and he has spoken as if to himself. Now, he remembers her presence again, and continues, conversationally.) I ve been menaced, and escaped so often, that I ve conic to think there must be a reason for my luck. MEL. (absorbed, leaning towards him). What reason? GEN. Well, ever3 r one has to own to some super stition MEL. Especially soldiers. GEN. And when a certain thing saves your life again and again MEL. It s a " mascot," bicn entcndu! Have you such a thing? GEN. (gravely, his hand on his breast). I be lieve I have. (Then, lightly.) I m going to fool them, by dying in my bed. After all those impre cations and warnings, I m still alive, to talk to a charming lady, who, if it hadn t been for me, might have died in a snowdrift. Let me get you some fresh tea. MEL. Thanks. Won t you join me? GEN. Yes. MEL. It must be getting late! I ought to start. [58] THE WASP What time did you say your lieutenant would be here ? GEN. I don t think it s possible before midnight. Better accept a rough shake-down up-stairs, and he, or I, will put you on your way by daylight. MEL. Thanks. I ll take your hospitality. Drink a toast with me, and I ll go up-stairs and find quarters for the night. (She raises her cup. She i<i sitting, and he is standing. She looks at him, as he raises his cup.) To the unknown officer, who has married a wife named " Fear." (As he drinks, she puts her own cup down, untouched, and puts her hands in her muff, and draws the end back noise lessly, her arm steadied on the table. As he lowers the cup from his face, he is confronted with the glittering barrel of a small revolver, which is point ing straight at his heart. There is a silence. Neither moves.) That is the last cup you will ever drink from, General Gretcheff. (She speaks slowly, and punctuates each of her words very slightly. ) Don t stir, don t move, or you re a dead man. Keep your eyes on me. A sudden start, the least move ment of your hands, and I ll fire, to kill. (They look at each other.) We ve got you, General Gret cheff. We ve got you at last ! " GEN. (his cup still in his hands, stands rigid, petrified, without moving a muscle). So that s who you are! And that s what you were after. (During all that follows, whatever she says, or does, she is always clear-headed, and covering him with the weapon ready -for his least at tempt.) [59] THE WASP MEL. Yes, General, fooled by a woman, com pletely off your guard. Humiliating! (A tiny pause. He is thinking back.) GEN. That Litova story was well done. Not too much. Just convincing. You re a clever woman. MEL. I m a sure one. I don t make mistakes. GEN. (looking her over). No, I don t think you do. (A silence.) Well, why wait? MEL. Because I m curious. GEN. (zcith a queer ironic inflection). Curious! MEL. I meant to do it the moment you opened the door, but your revolver was covering me. Then, I wanted to see what you were like ; you, the man that has been the instrument in sending more of our people, more of the Brotherhoods, to terrible deaths, than any other man in Russia. I wanted to sec your soul, before I send you out, in the dark. Lower your hands, quite slowly, till they rest on the table. No quick movement, or I ll fire. (He does so.) Now, sit. (He complies, facing front.) GEN. (with bitter disdain). A woman! To be killed by a woman. MEL. That needn t sting. I ve faced death my self, in the effort to shame our men into fighting. I fought in the Battalion of Death. My name is possibly known to you. I ll tell it you, for you ll have no opportunity to repeat it. You have heard of Irma Korevna? (The GENERAL raises his head a little. ) If you move, I ll stop this talk with a bullet. [60] THE WASP GEN. Irma Korevna. Yes, we know you. We have records of you, of all the worth-while ones, from your births, to your various finishes. Your case interested me. MEL. For what reason? (He looks away from her.) GEN. Looking up your antecedents, I couldn t discover where you got your socialistic strain. The Anarchist usually springs from the criminal or op pressed class. You came from neither. MEL. I am a product of your own construction, mon General. Such men as you breed such as I, for your own undoing. (He turns his head, and looks at her keenly.) GEN. (as if quoting from a record). " Irma Korevna, notorious Socialist speaker, and propa gandist." I ought to have recognized you, from your photograph in the Official Records. MEL. As I recognized yours, from the popular journals. (As if quoting.) " General Peter Gret- cheff, at the head of his troops." " General Gret- cheff, in full Court livery." " General Gretcheff, at dinner with Grand Dukes and Foreign Princes." And now an ordinary man, in slovenly garb, and slippers, with drawn face, and slouching shoulders. (He makes an effort to straighten himself.) Don t stir! Completely at my mercy, to question and analyze, as I choose. GEN. (quickly). Oh, no, you re wrong there, [61] Mademoiselle. (Smiles.) I can compel you to kill me at any moment. MEL. By what means? GEN. By making an effort to reach the revolver which is in my right-hand pocket. MEL. You won t do it. GEN. Not yet. I want to ask a question or two, first. I injudiciously told you my lieutenant had gone to Litzk. You ve got it all your own way. Give me a few minutes. I can t escape. How long will you give me? (The sleigh bells jingle outside. She raises her head till the face of the clock comes within her line of sight, but without removing her eyes from the GENERAL.) MEL. That clock behind you wants seventeen minutes of the hour. Till the hour. GEN. Death grinning over my shoulder from the clock-face. Seventeen minutes to suffer ! MEL. You kept Nikola Petroff, head of our Odessa brotherhood, in prison for ten months, hop ing a reprieve; then, you shot him. Seventeen min utes against ten months of suffering! GEN. Petroff would have got his liberty, if he hadn t clubbed and killed his jailer, an inoffensive fellow, who was bringing him food at the moment. MEL. Wouldn t you do likewise for the chance of life? GEN. No. If, now, you relaxed your guard, and gave me an opening, I couldn t kill you, as you propose to murder me. MEL. (steadily). Your removal for the regencra- [62] THE WASP tion of our country is not murder. Tell me, aren t you almost glad? Isn t there a sense of a kind of relief that the long suspense you must have lived in is certainty at last? GEN. I don t know. It s hard to analyze. There is a curious sense of something like rest. It has been terrible ! MEL. (in almost a zvhisper of tense curiosity). Tell me, what has it been like? GEN. One of those nightmares, when you try to cry out, and can t make a sound. Nothing comes. You agonize, and can t wake. It wasn t that way at first. I used to laugh when the threatening let ters came, but the insistency gradually told. I began to look at the people about me suspiciously, and wonder " which? " (He breaks off.) My center of vision began to alter. When I entered a room I found myself speculating what might be be hind a door, a heavy curtain. I would forget what I was speaking about and (He breaks off again.) I knew the thing was taking hold of me. I could throw it off for days, then but it always came back, and alwa3 7 s a little worse more in sistent. I began to suspect everybody, even friends. The actual things that happened didn t matter much. Oh, I ve been dogged from one end of Russia to the other. You know that! MEL. (nodding, absorbed). We haven t left you much peace! GEN. Shadowed in Odessa, Rostov, Moscow, every place. Once, my life was attempted in broad daylight, in my auto, on the Nevsky Prospect, and the mascot I spoke of, in a metal case, stopped the THE WASP bullet. Those weren t the things that told on me. It was the possibilities. MEL. For instance? GEN. Well for instance, one night, I was at the Grand Duke Paul s, at dinner, and there was a servant waiting a fellow with dark, cavernous eyes that seemed to follow me wherever he went. That dinner was ghastly! I had to laugh and crack jokes, and whenever he approached behind with a dish or a bottle, I could feel a creeping between my shoulders, a sensation as if the point of a knife were just scraping my flesh and might be driven in at any second. The fellow was nobody. That was one of many cases. I used to picture how the assas sin would look who got me at last! Haven t you ever wondered what it would look like? MEL. What? GEN. The ugly face of Murder. Something suddenly stalks up to you, and stops your heart beating in the poor wretched little body you ve washed and dressed up and fed, and been careful of, so long, and says, "Here you! I m going to squelch you out ! Here you end ! " I ve pic tured it often but it was never like this. (Sud denly.) What made them choose you? MEL. There was no choice. It was the drawing of a number. GEN. No appeal? MEL. None. GEN. Strange! If we, the governing class, did a thing like that what a howl of " tyranny " would be raised. {He makes a slight movement with hi* right hand; she is on the alert, instantly.) No, I [64] THE WASP wasn t trying to spring anything. I want a last smoke. The cigarettes and matches are just by your left hand. May I? (She pushes them towards 7iim, without taking her eyes off him. He takes ,them quietly, and lifts them to his face, his eyes on hers. Same business.) MEL. Don t deceive yourself, General. I shall not fail those who sent me. GEN. That name "Melipoff." Why did you call yourself by it? MEL. It was my mother s name. GEN. You knew the woman I spoke of, the cele brated violinist Irma Melipoff, was your mother? MEL. I knew Irma Melipoff brought me into the world. The peasants who were paid to drag me up to girlhood told me that much. GEN. The daughter of that genius, a murderer ! The skunks ! MEL. That s not our view! The greater the horror, the personal danger, the greater the grandeur of the service. GEN. And you conceive it a grandeur to shoot like a dog, without a chance to defend himself, a man in the uniform of his country, an old soldier, into whose room you sneak under shelter of a lie? MEL. Nothing matters, so that we rid our coun try of plague spots, oppressors, and traitors to the people and the common good, such as General Gret- cheff, and all men like him. GEN. Ah, you have got all the street-corner patter " Enemies of our country," " tyrants," THE WASP " oppressors," all the soap-box blather ! Why do you apply those terms to me? MEL. Obvious reasons like that? GEN. State them, state them! I want to nail you. MEL. Bleeding, ghastly Russia! There s your answer. GEN. Granted. It s a horrible picture. So is a drunkard, twisting and raving in an attack of delirium tremens. Yet, you hardly blame the medical men who are trying their remedies ! MEL. You ve been trying them for centuries. GEN. And for centuries, Russia has been suffer ing under vodka, bestiality, and slavery. To-day is the inevitable outcome. MEL. (quickly). You admit slavery? GEN. Certainly, I admit slavery. I didn t say we, the ruling class, are blameless. But don t sad dle us with all Russia s tragedy. It s not fair and not the truth. MEL. We looked to you for a remedy and you gave us a volley of shrapnel. GEN. What is the remedy for Russia? The Bolshevists remedy? I ve never heard them pro pose one. Destruction s no answer ! That s a clear ing out of the Social System a preparation. What is the remedy? MEL. Liberty and Education. GEN. Bombastic phrases. Tell us how to apply them. The moujik, and the steppe-dweller have not begun to think. You re offering the nectar of the Gods to clowns who prefer bad beer! Nectar s heady stuff. Look at your Litova friends, to whom [66] THE WASP " liberty " means license to murder and rape. (He is about to lift his fist to strike the table; she ad vances her revolver ever so slightly.) Qtfcr, I m not likely to forget! How much time have I used up? MEL. Eleven minutes. GEN. Let me tell you one thing. It s a queer time to do it with a revolver pointed at my stom ach, but it s the only moment I ve got. What has happened now (With a movement of his head to wards the picture.) is the signal. There s no more safety for anyone. I m shot down to-day. You re just as likely to be shot to-morrow, by your friends. All this has blazed out before. It gets a country nowhere. It s no good ! We, the hated ruling pow ers, have kept it under. MEL. Your methods are corrupt and foul. GEN. Someone has got to have the upper hand ! Better trust it to the class with brains. You re not dealing with a people like free America, or France, or England, all willing to submit to laws and rules for the common welfare. " Liberty," as yet to our people means satisfaction of individual lusts and follies, regardless of our rights. We have some rights, though you people won t admit us any. You ll see what will happen, now you ve unchained the Beast, and all that brute force and primal energy is unmuzzled loose on the world! MEL. (in a far-away voice). Yet, in the Dawn of Things, there was nothing but that and a reaching out for God! GEN. In the " Dawn of Things " there were only a few of us ! There were vast empty spaces, where huge struggles could take place and hurt [67] THE WASP nobody. Now the world s too full. We re crammed and crowded. Maggots in cheese. Begin to strug gle, and the maggots get smashed. Let me say one thing more. MEL. Four minutes are left, General. GEN. Well repeat this to your Anarchist friends. You, and your lot, think of us governing fellows as a pompous set of asses, sitting with our hands on our fat stomachs, congratulating our selves on the way we are running things. You re absolutely wrong! Behind walls, we re looking blankly in each other s faces, asking for a solution, for fire from heaven to light on some one of us, and show the way. But don t expect us to come out in the open and tell you so ! We ve got a fat job. We want to keep it. We mean to keep it. But you people who are battering the doors in. You ve got your chance. We ll listen to you, we ll invite you in, if you ll stop the demagogue jargon, and come to business. You can t. No you can t! Take away your bombs, and your knives, and your se cret assassins, and you re done, you re worse than we are! Kill us off! Jump into our shoes, see what you are up against! Try it! Try it for three months! You ll be knocking at our tombstones, howling above the bloody graves where you ve thrust us, begging us to come to life and relieve you of the problem of which you ve made even a bigger mess than we, the accursed Imperial Government, ever did. Try it! Try it! It s the worst I can wish for you! (There is a jangle of sleigh bells.) [68] THE WASP MEL. General Gretcheff, in three minutes I must obey my orders. Have you any wishes, any commission? I will transmit it. GEN. (he looks away). Wish? Commission? To whom? There s no one to whom it matters. I haven t a relative in the world! If I had succeeded in dying in bed there would probably have been not one person near me who cared. I spoke a while ago of something I carried which I believe has been a mascot to me. I believe so still. For if it has failed this time, it is because you have come between me and it and deflected its influence. MEL,. I don t understand. Why should I do that? GEN. Because it has a connection with you. When you told me who you were, you told me some thing which I already knew in part. This talis man, this mascot which I have carried ; there is a psychological connection between you, and it, a strong one. MEL. (without feeling). What has it to do with me? GEN. I believe much. It is a miniature of a brilliant woman, a great artist, my dear, whom I once knew, and loved. Her name was Melipoff, Catherine Anna Melipoff, at one time Court violin ist to his Imperial Majesty, the Czar. I feel a queer repugnance, a delicacy, a reluctance, Made moiselle, in continuing as if I were taking a mean advantage, because to do so is to use the subtlest weapon, the unfairest the most powerful, perhaps the only one I could use, to deflect you from your present purpose. [6 9 ] THE WASP MEL. There is no such weapon. Why do you indulge the hope? (A pause. They look in each other s eyes. He bends forward slightly.) GEN. Because, Mademoiselle, even in the hard est, the most stoical of us, there is a what shall I say? An instinct, a primal, prejudicial instinct against taking the life of that which gave us life! (They look into each other s eyes.) MEL. Speak out. GEN. I have long known that the souvenir the only living memento of the love of the great artist, Catherine Anna Melipoff, and myself, was the child she bore me, the child that was put away unrecognized, the woman known, by the irony of God, to the police and Government authorities, as the Anarchist and revolutionary Irma Korevna. (A dead silence.) MEL. (breaking the silence). That makes no difference. GEN. What ! MEL. Your " primal, prejudicial instinct " is dead in me. Dead before it was ever born. There is nothing to call to. It never lived. I say, it makes no difference. You have had no part in the making of my soul. GEN. Good God ! MEL. You have failed, General Gretcheff. If you hoped by revealing, that in insolence of power you wronged a woman who at least was my m [70] THE WASP GEN. (quietly interrupting). One does not in solently wrong, or lightly remember, Mademoiselle, one whose picture has been carried through what ever dangers life has held for me, and (does this sound childish to one so strong as you?) whose pic ture I have believed a charm, to preserve my poor life, for, till this moment, it has never failed. Would you like to see that picture? (The kitchen door slowly swings open, as it did before, and gradually, a shadow falls on the floor from the open door, lengthening by de grees.) MEL. (ignoring his question). The minute hand is almost on the hour. GEX. Would you like to see that picture? Your mother s picture, Mademoiselle. MEL. I shall see it soon. GEN. I am glad I have no coward for my child, if, as I believe, you are my child. I ll tell you where to find it when you search. (Soundlessly, at the open door of fhe kitchen, the figure of LIEUTENANT SERGEITCH appears. He stands motionless, trying to take in the situation. GENERAL GRETCHEFF gives no least sign or movement to betray that he has seen him; only, certain words, as he uses them, are punctuated, as if spoken in italics, so that LIEUTENANT SERGEITCH, who cannot, by rea son of his position, see the revolver menacing the GENERAL, may be informed of the deadly peril he is in.) THE WASP MEL. (in a tense whisper). General, it must be now. GEN. Wait, wait, a second! If YOU kill me, without listening, as you intend to do with that- loaded revolver you are pointing at me (LIEUTENANT SERGEITCH starts, horrorstruck, then nerves himself, and begins noiselessly, and with infi nite caution, covering the space between himself and the unaware woman; not daring to hurry, for fear the least sound may cause her to fire.) without listening to me, you ll have to grope for it ! That won t be pleasant, will it ! I want to save you that! (SERGEITCH is working his way across.) MEL. Hurry! GEN. I ll tell you where to find it. Don t, don t fire till I ve finished speaking. (He is trying to space out his words, to delay the shot, and the audi ence must feel he is doing so.) In the left side of the vest I wear on the inner side there is a pocket on the inner side, remember! In a metal case, that is dented with a bullet between some letters you will find the miniature I speak of it is (As he reaches this word, SERGEITCH, who has arrived close behind the woman, with one sure, swift movement, knocks the revolver sideways, and pinions her. She utters a stifled cry, struggles an instant, then realizes it is all over. The GEN- ERAL rises. Then he continues his sentence.) it is as I told you, a mascot, Mademoiselle. For it has, again, saved my life, and you from a crime that is worse than murder ! THE WASP SERG. Thank God, your Excellency ! (There is a sound of horses hoofs, and a confused noise out side.) That i Sergeant Nicolai and some of our men. They were searching for us. I rode on ahead, and the new tracks in the snow made me sus pect this (He slightly twists the woman s arm. She utters aery of pain.) /VkA- ^lt< - -^*- ! GEN. No roughness, Lieutenant! That we do not all think alike is no reason for forgetting we are two soldiers against a, now, harmless woman. (The GENERAL motions him off c.) You will con duct this lady, in her droshky, as far as Litzk. After that (Dryly.) she is perfectly able to take care of herself. (LIEUT. SERGEITCH goes out door c. R. which he leaves open, and unbarring outer door beyond, exits, closing it alter him.) Mademoiselle, we shall probably neither of us forget this inter view, nor are we likely (Grimly.) ever to have an other. But I warn you, if ever I catch you at your " activities," the fact we both know of will weigh as little with me as it did with you. MEL. I shall not forget, General Gretcheff, nor shall I change. You are still an enemy of your country. GEN. Neither you nor I are any such thing. We are little children lost in a forest, waiting for daylight to show us the paths. They are there. Perhaps the Dawn may reveal them; but you have not found them yet, neither have we. ( LIEUT. SERGEITCH opens the outer door and salutes. He [73] r v I V" // ~- k- - \t 4^ .L<r<>s \ "lUe. THE WASP stands by the door in readiness, his fur cap and coat on; there is a jingle of sleigh bells.) The droshky waits you, Mademoiselle. (He points to her coat and furs, and SERGEITCH picks them up, and stands waiting for her. She looks at the GENERAL, a moment, then bows her head and goes out in silence. The door closes upon her. The GENERAL, stands, his hands behind his back. His head turns in the direction of the picture with its face to the wall. He shivers slightly. The bells of the sleigh, as it starts, jangle sharply. He listens. Then, nods his head, and walks over to the table where the little volume he was reading when his visitor arrived is still lying. He picks it up and tries to read. The bells are heard, getting further away. He raises his head and listens to them receding in the distance. His eyes seek his book again. The bells are now far away.) CURTAIN [74] Be An Optimist By Adam Applebud The Quintessence of Nonsense in Three Acts. 6m.; 7w.. all equally important, with the opportunity, if desired, to use several "supers" with no lines. 2 simple interiors. Adam Applebud certainly blossomed forth with as many original situations and bits of business as a centipede has pedal extremities when he wrote "Be An Optimist." Funnier things happen than you ever dreamed of after a midnight encounter with a welsh-rarebit. For instance, can you imagine manufacturing a mummy with a love-sick swain, surgical bandages and a pail of coffee as the chief ingredients? Also, why are shot-guns and baseball bats vital to the antique business to say nothing of sledge-hammers and tooth-brushes? And why should Madame Goopher, the trance medium, faint when she suddenly discovers she isn t a liar after all? Would you stand within three feet of your best pal and listen to him make love to your girl and hear her ask him for a kiss? Our hero does, and he is helpless under the prevailing circumstances. The property man won t be worried as the "props" most important to the play are found in every home. The characters are more assorted than the component parts of boarding-house hash, and they will keep the laugh center in your medulla working livelier than a cash register in a bargain basement. Warning! If you yearn for "Culchaw" or have a burning desire to aid in the uplift of the "drahma," don t open a copy of "Be An Optimist"; but if you want the rafters of the old town hall to ring with laughter, hop to it! THE PEOPLE OF THE PLAY AS YOU MEET THEM Isaac Golditch, antiquer, of the Golditch Art Shop. Becky, his daughter. Pietro D Angelo Caccialino, expert worm-holer. Jimmie Maynard, "the poor stiff." Mildred Clinton, who is in love and likes it. Mrs. Clinton, "why mother-in-law jokes are true." Mike, just what his name suggests. Ray Hudson, a friend in need, but scarcely in deed. Miss Hull, interior decorator. Maggie, not green for "greenness" wears off, so call her stupid. Ethel Peabody, who defies love to affect her. Spencer, a paid guest. Madame Goopher, dispenser of spirits. Guests at the Ball. They Are Seen During Act I In the Golditch Art Shop. Morning. During Act II In Mrs. Clinton s Home. Afternoon. During Act III Still at Mrs. Clinton s. The next evening. ROYALTY ONLY TEN DOLLARS Each Amateur Performance Books Thirty-Five Cents Each UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. irm L9-50m-4, 61(B899484)444 "Nothing better than The Arrival oi Jvitty nas ever ueeu given I niontown." M "A splendid success from every standpoint. . "You are certainly to be congratulated tor writing a play so simple, so easy to present and at the same time so delightfully clever." ROYALTY ONLY TEN DOLLARS Each Amateur Performance Boofe^ Seventy-Five Cents Each i. V3?tt] If PS 3^07 Dane - D197w The wasp